You Got Away
by Mrs. Witter
Summary: A story about the one that always got away...
1. Prologue: Homeward Bound

Disclaimer: I own the world, or haven't you heard? Nah, just kidding. I don't own them, okay? Get off my case. They belong to Amy Sherman Palladino and the WB.

Rating: R

Pairing: R/T 

A/N: Yes, this is a new fic. I hate my life. Anyway, I seem to have been bit by the writing bug and instead of helping me finish my other fics, it has me writing a new one. Go figure. The readers of _Whatever Tomorrow Brings_ and _Then Came You_ should know that I will be finishing those fics as well. Somehow. This fic is set in the future so the characters might have changed and evolved a little – but that just makes it all the more real, right? Enjoy and remember that feedback is cherished!

You Got Away

**Prologue: Homeward Bound**

An errant ray of sunlight peeked through the curtains and hit twenty-six year old Rory Gilmore with its cheerful intensity. She groaned and buried her face in her pillow not wanting to leave the delicious warmth of her comfy bed. But her internal clock was ringing and her mind was already buzzing with activity. She let out a strangled whimper and threw the covers off her body. She stretched leisurely and then quickly darted off her bed. If her mind was going to get a head start for the day, she figured that she would nourish her body with some coffee to even the odds.

Humming, she slipped into a furry blue robe and glided into the living room of her apartment, only to find Paris Gellar and Jess Mariano intertwined on the sofa, lips locked and hands in places she knew they had no business being in so early in the morning. 

Rory rolled her eyes and cleared her throat for the benefit of her friends. Paris who had some amount of shame broke away from her fiancé and looked in Rory's direction with a sheepish yet thoroughly sated expression. Jess continued kissing Paris' neck, barely acknowledging Rory's presence. Paris finally pushed him off and he looked up grinning. "Hey Rory." 

She muttered something about men being sex-addicts and headed for the kitchen as the two of them straightened themselves out. Paris followed her roommate into the small kitchen, a small smile on her face. "You're rather grumpy this morning."

The brunette sighed and flicked on the switch to the coffee maker. "I was trying to write last night and lost track of time."

"An article?" Paris asked buttering a piece of toast.

"My novel," Rory replied with a grunt.

"How is that going?"

"Nowhere," she said and headed for the fridge in the well-spaced kitchen. 

She and Paris had bought this apartment in upper Boston and moved in together when they had graduated from Harvard. They had been enemies and friends through Chilton and most of Harvard. As circumstance would have it, the two were thrown together so many times that somewhere a long the line they had formed a bond that neither anticipated but both readily accepted because of their history and at the prospect of having someone familiar to hold onto while facing the scary albeit exciting future ahead of them.

And they were soon going to be family, as Paris was engaged to Rory's step-cousin, Jess.

"You worry too much," Paris reprimanded and handed Rory a mug of coffee.

"Right back at ya," she replied taking a sip of the dark liquid and sighing in pleasure. "My mind is a complete blank. Why did I ever think I could do this?"

"Because you can," the blonde replied just as Jess walked into the kitchen. Paris leaned in to kiss him lightly on the lips and then addressed him. "Jess, Rory can do it right?"

"Do what?"

"Write."

"Of course."

"Guys," Rory whined and bit into a Pop Tart. "You don't understand. Writing a novel. That's real tough. And scary. And I don't know if I'm strong enough to do it."

Jess patted her on the shoulder. "You're very unattractive when you're low on self-esteem."

"Well wouldn't you be if you were low on sleep, food and coffee, working overtime all the time, trying to write a novel and not getting past the first sentence, having no social life and no love life whatsoever?" she complained and then pouted.

"Well you know, you can solve the whole love life problem if you just pick up the phone and call a certain guy…" Paris trailed off with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Rory knew that Paris was talking about Tristan DuGrey but before she could retort, the phone rang and she reached over the microwave to answer it. She picked the receiver and pushed all thoughts of the charming, sexy man who had made her life hell ever since he'd stepped into it and smiled brightly. "Hello?"

"Rory," Luke said from the other end. 

Her step-dad's sounded rougher and more raw than usual and she immediately furrowed her brows in worry. "Hey Luke, what's wrong?"

"Richard's in the hospital," he answered sadly and Rory gasped, causing Jess and Paris to look at her with concern. "You gotta come home quick."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Brooding was one the things Tristan DuGrey did increasingly well. 

That and arguing about everything under the sun until he had convinced everyone – from his family, friends and a jury of strangers that he was right and they were wrong. Of course it helped that he had a charming personality and a killer smile, but he knew that his powers of persuasion were very well honed.

As were his brooding skills.

Right now, he sat in his office in downtown New York as it poured outside, still steaming from his most recent argument with his father, William DuGrey. He wasn't sure who started the argument this time  - and in the long run he knew it didn't matter. Somehow, according to his father he was responsible for the rift that had torn apart father and son so many years ago.

That was something else Tristan couldn't isolate – when it was that they had come to the point where he could no longer be with his father without getting into a heated fight. A few times, they almost even came to blows.

Whether it was about school, which college he wanted to go to, what job he wanted, how he led his life or the women he dated, William had found something indisputably wrong with Tristan's choices. And he had no problem voicing his opinion.

Back then when Tristan became too troublesome, William carted him off to military school – just like people take their dogs to obedience school. Now, he just called and annoyed the hell out of his son. Tristan didn't know which was worse.

Tristan's grandfather, Janlan was usually the one who settled debates and sent the two men off into separate corners to cool off. But lately the patriarch of the DuGrey clan's health was failing miserably and William had taken advantage of this time to irritate his son. 

Janlan's ailing health was something else that Tristan had been brooding about when the intercom buzzed. "Mr. DuGrey?" Alice's voice came through the intercom and flitted through his quiet office. "Mr. Mariano is on the telephone for you."

"Thank you," Tristan said absently as he pressed the button and picked up the receiver. He smiled. "Mariano, what can I do for you?"

"You can get on a plane to Hartford for one thing," the man on the other end answered gruffly. "Today, if possible."

Tristan remained unperturbed. "Now why would I do something like that?"

"Because Richard Gilmore passed away this morning," Jess replied. "Heart attack. The funeral's tomorrow. She might need you there."

He took in a sharp breath as self-preservation kicked in. "She might not."

"Would you stop being a selfish bastard and - "

"I'll be there," Tristan interrupted.

"See you then," the other man replied sounding relieved. "Bye."

"Yeah, bye."

As the phone clicked back into its cradle an image of the last time he had seen Rory Gilmore, wide eyed and furious with him, flashed through Tristan's mind and almost made him debate his decision to go.

_She might need you there_.

He shook his head and set his mouth in a grim line.

He was going home.


	2. Chapter 1: Nothing Gold Can Stay

Disclaimer: I own the world, or haven't you heard? Nah, just kidding. I don't own them, okay? Get off my case. They belong to Amy Sherman Palladino and the WB. The flashback on this chapter does not belong to me either.

Rating: R

Pairing: R/T

**Chapter 1: Nothing Gold Can Stay**

Lorelai Gilmore was dressed in a somber black suit, sitting in the middle of her kitchen in Stars Hollow, staring into her mug of coffee when Rory found her. The younger Gilmore felt something clench her heart as she watched her mother's sad expression but managed a small smile. She walked over and placed a hand on her mother's shoulder. "Hey mom. You okay?"

"He hated that I drank so much coffee," she said almost absently, giving her daughter a small smile. "Just like he hated my way of doing business and the clothes I wore and the inappropriate stuff I said. God, that's all part of who I am and if that's true then - "

"Don't finish that sentence," Rory warned her softly, tears welling up. "Because you know that Grandpa loved you. Very much."

"Sweetie," Lorelai said in a strangled voice. She took a minute to blink back tears and then ran a hand through her hair. "He was so disappointed in me. I know we tried…after some time we were at this understanding that what happened in the past was dealt with…but I just got this feeling - " Her mother trailed off again, tears running down her cheeks freely now. "I wish things were different."

"They were great, Mom. He was happy."

Lorelai smiled softly through her tears. "I know. But Dad and I weren't like you and Chris, you know? We couldn't even say 'I love you' or hug each other without feeling awkward. So we didn't. And now, I just feel so foolish for letting something as stupid as awkwardness get in the way of telling my father that I loved him. That no matter how much we couldn't understand each other, I loved him. And now…I can't."

Lorelai rested her head on her daughter's stomach and let her tears take over. Rory felt her own tears surface as she stroked her mother's hair and murmured. "He knew you loved him. He did."

After a few minutes, Lorelai pulled away and wiped her eyes delicately with her hands. She let out a small half-laugh. "This is so not the time for me to fall apart. I need to make sure everything is in order. I need to get to Hartford. Mom is just a mess."

"I know," Rory sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. "I've never seen Grandma so out of it. She's never fallen apart before. She looks so lost."

Lorelai stood up and placed her hand on Rory's arm. "He was the love her of life. If there's anything I am sure about regarding my parents, it's that they loved each other very, very much. Imagine losing someone so integral to your life. The only man for you."

Tousled blonde hair, a soft, smirking mouth and startling blue eyes crossed Rory's mind and she met her Lorelai's gaze with a small, sad smile. "It would be devastating."

The older Gilmore kissed Rory on the forehead and grabbed her keys from the table. 

Jake Danes, Rory's five-year-old half brother, walked into the kitchen holding his father's hand. Luke kissed his wife's forehead and patted Rory on the shoulder, not comfortable with hugs.

"You ready to go?" Luke asked Lorelai, holding up the car keys.

Lorelai nodded before turning to her daughter. "Luke and I are gonna leave now. Are you sure you don't want to come with us?"

"I need to read the eulogy once more," she replied softly. "Make sure it's perfect. You guys go ahead. I'll see you there. Drive safely."

Rory took in a deep breath and then headed for the living room. Sitting down on the couch, she pulled out the piece of paper she had written her eulogy on and thought of one of the last conversations she had had with her grandfather.

_"Thanks for the present Grandpa," she said as she rested the phone between her shoulder and her ear. "I still can't believe I misplaced my first and only edition of Wuthering Heights."_

_Richard chuckled. "I thought that hooligan friend of yours took it."_

_Rory giggled. "I wouldn't be surprised if Jess did. So how've you been lately? Grandma says you get tired very often."_

_"Your grandmother worries too much," he shot back indignantly. "I'm capable of taking care of myself. I'm fine I keep telling her but she won't listen. All Gilmore women are stubborn. I just don't know what to do with you."_

_"We do it because we care," she stated smiling. "You're the most important man in our lives, Grandpa."_

_"Now that's not true," Richard argued. "Your mother has that baseball cap wearing husband of hers and you, my darling granddaughter are caught up with that DuGrey boy."_

_She tensed a bit at the mention of Tristan but managed to sound nonchalant. "Tristan and I aren't together, Grandpa. We've never been together. You're the only man in my life, I promise you that."_

_"Famous last words, Rory." Richard simply laughed._

Rory buried her face in her hands and cried.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

"Who did you call?" Paris asked her fiancé as they sat side by side on the plane to Hartford. When Jess looked back at her with a look of feigned confusion, she elaborated. "This morning. That very secretive phone call you made from the bathroom."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, flipping the pages of his magazine.

"You're not a very convincing liar, Jess," she stated with an eye roll. "You called Tristan, didn't you?"

He sighed and closed the magazine on his lap. "Yes. I did."

Paris hid her smile and just arched an eyebrow. "Why?"

Jess turned to the blonde and looked at her irritated. "I know the guy has been a jerk to her. They do something to each other and it's unhealthy. I don't like it. But I also think she wants him there no matter what. Right now, I just want her to feel comfortable. Somehow, he does that for her."

Paris knew that under the careless, macho exterior was the heart of the man she loved and she loved it when that man made an impromptu appearance. She merely smiled and kissed him softly on the lips. "That's all I wanted to hear. I just hope that this little matchmaking scheme of yours - "

"It's not a matchmaking scheme," he protested.

"Okay, whatever. I just hope this time doesn't end the way it always does for the two of them," she stated and took a sip of water from the plastic cup. "But knowing those two, I wouldn't bet my diploma on it."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

It was funny how huge, tragic moments like this could turn someone like him, who usually didn't think much about life, death and love into a brooding philosopher, Tristan thought as he sat in the limo from the airport to the church. Actually, that wasn't true. Lately everything that happened to Tristan DuGrey made him sit alone in his car, or room or office with a glass – or bottle if the occasion called for it – of brandy and think long and hard about who he was and what his life had come to.

Richard Gilmore's death obviously made him think of Rory and the first time he'd talked to her – almost ten years ago…

"Hey, Mary." 

_"Me?" She looked at him startled, her blue eyes wide and innocent. She looked so out of place in that snooty, rich school and yet somehow, she had managed to fit in and catch up with grace, wit and expertise._

_"Yeah, you." _

_"My name is Rory," she said naively. _

_"I'm Tristan," he replied always amused, always intrigued. _

_"Hi." _

_"So you new?" he asked and in retrospect knew it was a dumb question._

_"Yeah, first day." _

_"Remmy's class is rough," he wanted to hear her say or do something more. He was surprised that she was so unaffected by him. She wasn't blushing or batting her eyelashes. It was baffling and amusing all at the same time._

_"Yeah, it seemed very intense."_

_I could make other things very intense for you, he had thought. "I could loan you my notes, if that would help."   _

_"Really? That'd be great." She looked so grateful. _

_Of course, he had to turn it into something other than gratitude. So he walked forward, invading her personal space and leaving her no choice but to back up against a wall. _

_"Yeah? How great?" _

_"I don't know. Mr. Remmy said that getting someone's notes would be…" she trailed off, obviously uncomfortable with his forwardness._

_"I could even help you study. If you want." Studying wasn't the only thing on his mind. It rarely was when it came to girls._

_ She looked flabbergasted. "Uh, I kind of view studying as a solitary activity, but thanks." _

_So she was going to be a little tough to coerce. He was happy for the challenge. He smiled and walked away. "Bye Mary."_

A wistful, almost amused smile flitted over his lips. God, he was such a jerk to her back then._ You're still a jerk to her now,_ his conscience reminded him. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. Rory Gilmore had a way of bringing out the worst in him. _Maybe seeing her again isn't such a great idea after all._

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"Lorelai," Victor Adams, an ex-business partner of her grandfather's said as he greeted Rory near the entrance of the church. He grabbed her hand and kissed it softly. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Rory said softly.

Her mother was motioning her to come to the front of the church and she excused herself. She kissed her grandmother on her cheeks and the three Gilmore women sat down in the first pew as the funeral service began.

Father Michael, a longtime family friend stood on the podium and addressed the gathering. "I have known the Gilmores for twenty years now and it is with a heavy heart that I will perform my duties today." 

He continued to speak for the next few minutes but his words didn't quite reach Rory's ears. She was too busy staring at the mahogany casket that lay in the front of the church, surrounded by flower bouquets and wreaths. Somehow seeing all that made her grandfather's death all the more final and heart wrenching. 

"…Richard's granddaughter, Lorelai Leigh Gilmore to the podium to give the eulogy."

Her name snapped her out of her thoughts and she slowly made her way to the front. Father Michael kissed her forehead and she stepped up to the podium, facing the people who had come to pay their respects. Her gaze fluttered over to Emily, Lorelai and Luke who were smiling at her softly and then to Paris and Jess who both gave her an encouraging nod. She took in a deep breath and knew that she had to do this for her grandfather. "I didn't get to know my grandfather very well until I was sixteen years old…"

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Tristan stood at the back of the church, listening to Rory give the eulogy and felt his chest constrict with pain for her and her family. He had met Richard on many occasions and the patriarch of the Gilmore family had always treated him with kindness and warmth. He knew how much Rory loved her grandfather so he knew how difficult it was for her to be standing in front of all those people, bidding Richard Gilmore a final farewell.

But Rory was one of the strongest women he knew and although the pain and loss was clear in her voice she seemed to deliver the speech without much hesitancy.  

"…Grandpa loved to read. We had countless discussions – and some heated arguments on all kinds of books… and if he were here, I know for a fact that he'd probably be bored out of his mind." Her grin wavered a bit as she stared down at the podium for a minute.

Tristan smiled slightly as the congregation chuckled softly in remembrance.

"And I also know that he'd want me to share his love of the written word with all those people who came to say goodbye to him. Richard Gilmore always got what he wanted in life.  And he won't have anything denied to him in death, either. Grandpa, I hope I made the right choice with this poem."

She took a minute to take in a few deep breaths before she continued.

"_Nature's first green is gold, her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; the leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief. So dawn goes_…" Rory's voice caught in her throat and a small sob escaped her lips. After a pause and tears streaming down her cheeks she continued. "_So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay_." She looked over at her grandfather's casket and smiled slightly, sadly through her tears. "I wish you _could_ stay, Grandpa. I love you."

Sniffles and murmurs could be heard throughout the church as Rory stepped down from the podium. Then, suddenly she looked up and the distance between them seemed to shrink as their eyes locked. She broke her gaze and walked over to her mother and to her family. He saw her whisper something to her mother and then slowly made her way to the back of the church - to him. 

His pulse quickened but he managed to remain unaffected as she stopped a foot away from him, her expression unreadable. For what seemed like an eternity, she just held his gaze without saying a word and he wondered if she was going to ask him to leave. In a moment, she answered his question by closing the space between them, sliding her hands underneath his trench coat and hugging him like there was no tomorrow.

Tristan's own arms immediately wrapped around her tiny waist possessively and burrowed his face in her hair. Somehow everything that had happened between them seemed insignificant and unimportant and all that mattered was this moment – having her in his arms, holding her like he was never going to let go and making sure she was safe and protected.

He just wished that this was how they could stay.


	3. Chapter 2: Of Life And Love

**Chapter 2: Of Life and Love**

The sun was shining pleasantly and it seemed so unfair to Rory. The day shouldn't have been so perfect. Not when she was standing near her mother and grandmother, watching as they lowered her grandfather's casket into the ground, slowly and agonizingly. She wanted to scream and stop them from taking him away but she couldn't move. So she remained rooted, listening to the quiet sobs of her grandmother and the happy chirping of the birds.

Not fair. Life – and consequently death, was never fair. And she hated it.

When she couldn't see the top of the mahogany casket anymore a wayward tear slipped down her cheek. Immediately a strong hand clasped hers, the thumb stroking her knuckles in an intimate, comforting gesture. 

Tristan. 

Her unwavering rock. Her brave knight. Her favorite mistake. Always there when she needed him, never when she wanted him. 

She gripped his fingers tightly and wiped her tears away. The last words of the funeral rite echoed in her head and she felt him nudge her as his hand slipped away. Without looking at him, she followed the other Gilmore women to the pile of dirt by the side of the grave and waited her turn to throw it on Richard's casket. Lorelai led Emily away, crying and Rory stood at the edge of her grandfather's grave, with some dirt between her fingers. She flicked her wrist and watched in fascination as the dirt spilled and landed on the wood six feet below. Her lips parted slightly, her words coming out like a gush of air. "Goodbye, Grandpa."

The next ten minutes were spent in arms of friends and family, who offered their condolences and then walked away from the cemetery, to their cars and their lives. Her father held her the longest, saying nothing but offering her the comfort and protection she desperately sought. Lane Kim, her longest and best friend kissed her on the forehead and told her she was in town as long as Rory needed her to be.

"Hey," Lorelai said softly as she appeared by Rory's side. "We're going back to Grandma's now."

She nodded. "Okay. In a minute."

Her mother looked up at the blond man behind her. Tristan's voice was smooth and reassuring. "You go on, Lorelai. I'll bring her over."

Once everyone was gone, Rory turned to him. "There's a small lake on the other side of the church. It's very nice, quiet and very pretty."

"I know," he said gently. "Let's go."

They walked past the graves in silence, the birds and the soft crunching of grass beneath their shoes the only sounds that could be heard. He wasn't touching her and it made her feel comfortable. Safe. Brave.

She didn't realize that they had reached their destination until she saw their reflections in the shimmering water below. They stood their, side by side not saying a word and letting the warm spring breeze rustle through the trees and their clothes.

After what seemed like an eternity had passed, she broke the silence. "He was happy."

"Was he?"

She nodded and pushed her hair away from her face. "Yeah, he was content with his life. The other day, I was talking to him and I asked him what he would like for his birthday. It's in two weeks. He told me that he had everything. I didn't really get what he meant then. Now I do."

A perfect eyebrow arched. "Yeah?"

"Grandpa had done everything he ever wanted to do. He had married the only woman he ever loved, was reunited with his daughter, watched his granddaughter graduate from Harvard…what else could anyone really ask for, right? Life is a series of moments and if you have a lot of good ones then you can say you lived a pretty good life, right?" She looked up to gauge his reaction and he smiled slightly, understanding completely like he always did.

Tristan ran a hand through his hair. "Richard did have a lot of wonderful moments. I'd say your grandfather led a pretty wonderful life."

She sighed and gazed into the water again as a goldfish whizzed by underneath the crystal surface. "Wherever he is, I know he's happy. Someday, I hope I can be as half as happy he was when he took his last breath."

She felt his fingers twine with hers again, and she watched them, standing there through their watery image. He nodded slowly and expelled a breath. "Someday." 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

"Does she know that you told him?" Lane asked Jess as they stood in a corner of the living room in Emily's house a cup of tea in their hands. "Seriously Jess, what in the world were you thinking? She doesn't need any more stress!"

"I know what she needs and doesn't need," Jess snapped irritated. He wondered why everyone was ragging on him for calling Tristan. It wasn't like he wanted to or anything but he knew that the other man understood Rory in a way no one else did and for that, she would have appreciated his presence. 

Ironically, the hotheaded Paris intervened. "Now is not the time to argue."

"Right," Lane said with a firm nod. "Sorry. Where is she anyway? Wasn't she coming with Lorelai?"

"She stayed back," the blonde explained taking a sip of her tea. "Tristan's with her."

On cue, Rory and Tristan walked in together. Lane sighed and muttered under her breath. "When he's here he sticks to her like glue but when he's gone he doesn't even call. Nothing is ever simple when it comes to those two and she's always the one who gets hurt. I don't like it."

"None of us do," Jess acknowledge as he watched Tristan rest his hand on Rory's shoulder, standing by her side as if he belonged there. A few years ago, Jess would have thought that the intense anger he felt for Tristan DuGrey was based on jealousy. Now he just hated the fact that the man had an inexplicable control over Rory and that somehow, she let herself get trampled over by him time and again. "But she needs him. And he knows that. That's probably the reason he - "

"No. He's a lot of things," Paris interrupted quietly. "But he's not that cold to use her like that. I know Tristan. There has to be something more going on than we know."

Lane sighed again. "Whatever it is, I hope they work it out this time around. I don't know about Tristan, but Rory can't take another heartbreak."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

"Can I get you anything Grandma?" Rory asked as the older woman rested in her bed, later that night. "Water?"

"Water would be nice," Emily replied absently closing her eyes. "Thank you, Rory."

Rory quickly filled her grandmother a glass of water from a nearby pitcher and then walked towards the door. Turning around she offered a small smile. "Mom and I are spending the night. If you need anything, just let us know okay?"

"Alright," Emily replied and pulled her comforters over her body. "Goodnight Rory."

"G'night Grandma," she replied and closed the door behind her. She sighed and then leaned against the door, feeling exhaustion run through her system and pool in her feet. Glancing down, she realized that she was still wearing her heels. She cursed whomever it was that invented high heels and bent down to remove them. She let out a pleased moan. "God, so much better."

She loved the feeling of the carpet under her swollen feet as she trudged down the hallway and made her way back to the living room. She rounded the corner and was surprised to see Tristan sprawled on the couch, tie undone and hanging loosely around his neck and a glass of brandy in his hand. He straightened up as she approached and sat down beside him. "Hey."

"Hi," she answered softly. "I thought you would have left by now."

He stared at the rim of his glass. "I was going to go but Lorelai offered me lodging and I would prefer sleeping here than facing my father at home. So if you don't - "

"I don't mind," she confirmed quickly. "I just – I'm surprised you're here, that's all."

He furrowed his brows for a second in confusion but then relaxed his face in sudden understanding. "Jess called me. I thought you knew. I thought you wanted…sorry, my mistake."

Rory realized that they had gone from being comfortable around each other to distant again in a matter of minutes. Like they always did. She wanted to tell him that she thought of him first, that she wanted to call him and that she was grateful beyond belief that he was there – but something stopped her. Instead, she smiled slightly. "No it's not your fault. Jess has a way of butting in like that."

He ran a hand through his hair and finished his brandy in one big gulp. "Maybe I should just go home. It doesn't make a difference as to where it is I'm unwanted, right?"

"I didn't say you were unwanted," she protested, hating herself for not telling him the truth and hating him for not understanding her intentions regardless. He stood up quickly and she followed, putting a hand on his arm to stop him. "I didn't say that."

"There are a lot of things you haven't said, Rory," he answered promptly, almost bitterly. "That's not the point."

"Would you mind telling me what _is_ the point, then?"

He stared at her for a second, his body tense and rigid and then he let out a frustrated breath. "It doesn't matter. This isn't the time."

Before Rory could retort, the sound of soft laughing demanded her attention and she looked over her shoulder to see Lorelai standing on the terrace with Christopher a sad, almost reluctant smile on her face. For a minute, Rory forgot that she was in the middle of a standoff with Tristan and felt her lips curl into an appreciative smile. Without thinking, she shared her thoughts. "He can still make her smile. It's funny after all this time, I still – I know I probably shouldn't -"

"You still wish they were together?" Tristan asked softly.

She looked up at him guiltily. "I love Luke. And my mom loves him very much. And I've accepted that. I just wanted so much for them to be together…God, I'm acting like a naïve child."

"No you're not," he countered softly and then hitched his head in her parent's direction. "You've always wanted them together. It's hard to let go of something like that. I bet it was hard for them to let go of each other."

"And harder to stay together," she finished and met his eyes. "I get that."

She wasn't sure if her tone had come out bitter or not, but they fell into that uncomfortable, unbearable silence again looking at each other as if they wanted to say something each other but it just scared them too much to let on to their feelings, just a bit. 

"Hey honey," Lorelai said as she came through the glass door, Christopher right behind her. Rory's parents stopped abruptly sensing the tension in the room and looked between the two young adults, as if waiting for one of them to break it. "Everything okay?"

Tristan cleared his throat and pocketed his hands. "Everything is fine, Lorelai."

Rory blinked and then smiled in agreement. "Yeah. I was just going to go and show Tristan to the guest room."

"That's okay," Christopher interjected. "I'm staying here too. I'll show him. You go and rest, honey. You've had a long day."

After the two men left, Lorelai turned to her daughter with a sheepish smile. "This is okay with you, right?  I didn't think he'd accept."

Rory feigned puzzlement. "Why would I mind? I'm glad he's here."

Lorelai nodded knowingly and threw her arm around her daughter's shoulder as they climbed the stairs. "Just be careful, okay? I know how you get when he's around."

She opened her mouth to argue but then closed it again, knowing it was futile when her other was right. Silently, the two women made their way to the end of the hallway on the first floor and went into their respective bedrooms after wishing each other goodnight. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Tristan lay in his bed, wide awake his thoughts drifting back to Rory and every single conversation he had with her. One thing was for sure whether they were either quiet, reflective conversations after a pleasant evening together or a heated one after their lovemaking they were difficult to analyze. 

It seemed like no matter how hard they tried their meetings ended in heated arguments or passionate sex – neither of them resolving anything between the two.

He recalled her words from the afternoon. 

**Life is a series of moments and if you have a lot of good ones then you can say you lived a pretty good life, right? **

From the beginning their relationship had been a series of good and bad moments that were so muddled up in his head, he was wondering if they were beginning to forget the good and stay focused on the painful, bad ones.

**_"Your boyfriend's waiting."_**

****

**_"He's not my boyfriend. I hate him."_**

That summer was one of the worst summers of his life and it was because of her. Back then, he had been so sure of who he was, the role he played and she came into his life – making him question everything and just as he was beginning to appreciate her for it, like her for it – she hurt him beyond repair. 

Maybe that's why they still couldn't get a long well. Maybe he still resented her for forgetting about what she said and expecting them to move on from there to wherever it was they were now.

She had never thought much of him, anyway.

**"You make it impossible for anyone to be nice to you. No wonder you had to join our group. Anyone who had suffered through the experience of going out with you would absolutely know better."**

He knew it was stupid and that they were young but somehow, he couldn't erase those words from his memory – even after the good times they had shared. 

**"Hello Mary," he greeted her as she opened the door of her dorm room, holding a single red rose in his hand. He extended his hand and she smiled up at him, taking it from him, her fingers brushing against his. "For you." **

**She giggled, looking stunning in her modest blue dress. "This is so clichéd."**

**"The rose or me?"**

**She scrunched her nose. "How are you a cliché?"**

**He grinned. "You know, the whole startlingly handsome suitor thing."**

**She rolled her eyes. "I didn't know the cliché included a humongous ego." **

**"That's just a Tristan DuGrey bonus."**

**She laughed as they headed down the hall of her dorm. "You're so full of it."**

**"And you wouldn't want me any other way," he returned evenly. **

**She looked up at him sincerely, blue eyes wide with amusement and lips stretched in a pretty smile. "No, I wouldn't."**

Tristan turned to his side, punching the pillow underneath his head and letting out a troubled sigh. Life with Rory Gilmore in it was definitely complicated.


	4. Chapter 3: Restless

**Chapter 3: Restless**

The floorboard creaked quietly under her weight as she entered the guest room, the light from the hallway flooding into the darkened room, allowing her to see the bed and make out the still form that slept peacefully under sheets. She turned, softly closed the door behind her and waited until her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Then she tiptoed to the bed, wondering for the thousandth time if it were a mistake to come into Tristan's room in the middle of the night – with all the complexity and suggestive implications her visit would bring. And yet she was not able to stop herself, regardless of her fear and doubts.

She neared the bed and was just about to reach out and shake him when he turned on his side and faced her, eyes opening slowly and sleepily. Then he was sitting up in bed, the sheets pooling at his waist and flicking on the lamp on the side table. The soft glow from the lamp fell on his face, illuminating his confusion and worry. "Rory? What's wrong?"

Suddenly, she felt foolish and had to fight the urge to turn and bolt out of the room. Instead she managed a smile and shrugged. "I couldn't sleep."

Understanding dawned in his eyes and he scooted to the side, inviting her into his bed. "Well then, you can sleep here."

Grateful and hesitant at the same time, she slipped under the covers and slept on her side, facing him with her hands tucked under her head. He copied her position and searched her face, quietly. She let out a breath and squirmed and averted her eyes from his scrutiny. "I was going to go sleep with Mom and Luke but I don't think the bed is big enough for the three of us. And I really didn't want to disturb Grandma. She's so exhausted…"

"It's okay," Tristan said gently and then touched his fingertips to her cheek. "I don't mind."

"That's good," she whispered as his fingers swept across her cheek and then tugged lightly at the hair that was resting there. She snuggled against the mattress and let out a tired sigh.

"Better?"

"Much," she answered, her eyes closing. "Tristan?"

"Hmm?" His fingers were working their way down the curve of her neck, skimming lightly across her collarbone making delicious little tingles run up and down her spine.

She opened her eyes and fixed them on his so intently that his fingers stopped their ministrations as he stared back at her. "I really am glad that you're here. I can't imagine having anyone else here to comfort me. I wouldn't want anyone else."

He smiled, genuinely for the first time in a long time and kissed her forehead. "You're welcome, Rory."

Smiling back, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep, pleasant slumber. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Of course now that she's asleep, I can't even close my eyes, Tristan thought bitterly as he watched Rory breathe in and out while she slept. Torn between wanting to touch her and wanting her out of his bed at the same time, Tristan opted to sleep flat on his back, staring at the ceiling and trying to push out the soft, humming sound coming from the woman beside him.

It wasn't like Rory hadn't slept in his bed before. She had - many times over the past nine years. And every single time, excluding the first, he knew that in the harsh light of day it was going end badly for both of them. Because sleeping with Rory Gilmore – even in the most innocent way possible was never simple and refreshing. He had enough experience with it to know that when she was concerned, all bets were off.

Because with Rory he never knew what to expect…

"That's Rory Gilmore. She goes here." Tristan heard a male voice say. "Wow, I always thought she was shy."

Curious, he turned and tried to spot the brunette among the throng of Harvard students gathered at the fraternity house for what he thought was the lamest party ever. Shocked, he immediately spotted Rory seated with four or five guys who seemed to be hanging on her every word as she rambled on about something he couldn't hear because of the crappy alternative music that blaring through the music system. Concerned he neared the group just as Rory burst into a gale of giggles.

She's drunk, he thought surprised and then his eyes narrowed when he saw one of the fraternity guys handing her a glass of punch – spiked punch – which was probably not her first glass. 

"This stuff is really good," Rory told the red-haired guy beside her, whose hand was skimming slightly over her thigh. "I wonder if my Mom knows the recipe."

"I don't think so," he answered with a grin.

"Oh I'm purty sure she does," she slurred and then looked down at his hand. "That tickles."

She's definitely drunk. Oh God, Tristan thought as he closed in on her. Not wanting to cause a scene, he remained calm. "Hey Rory."

"Tristan!" she exclaimed giddily and stood up, promptly swaying back and clutching her head in agony. "Ooh, I think I got up a little too fast. Wow, those head rushes can really hurt."

"I'm sure," he replied tightly, keeping his laughter at bay. "Why don't I take you home?"

"Hey!" the red-haired guy protested. "I was just getting to know her."

"Well sorry to ruin your fun," he answered curtly as he picked up her jacket from the couch. "She's going home."

The red-haired boy stood up and took on a confrontational position. "What are you? Her father? Why don't you stop being a caveman and let the lady decide for herself."

"And why don't you back off before I shove my fist in your face?" Tristan shot back and grabbed Rory's wrist. "Let's go."

Giggling, Rory waved to her new friends. "Bye boys!"

"What's the matter with you?" Tristan said as he helped her into his car. He strapped her into the passenger side and then walked over to the driver's side, trying not to freak out. "How many glasses of that punch did you have?"

"Six." Rory answered and held up five fingers. Frowning she looked at her hand. "That's not right."

"Jesus," Tristan said under his breath and then smiled at her. "Hold on, Mary. I have to get you home."

"You're such a sweetheart, Tristan," Rory said with a dramatic gesture of her hands. "That's what I like about you. I can never really tell who you're gonna be from one minute to the next."

"So bipolarity turns you on?" he grinned at her as he maneuvered his car. He was pretty sure there weren't going to be any more instances where he would get to banter with a drunk Rory Gilmore so he was going to milk this one for all it was worth. 

She giggled again and poked her finger at him. "And you're funny."

"Thank you," he replied with mock modesty. "Did you drink that stuff knowing what was in it?"

"What was in it?" Rory asked confused. "It was very good punch. It tasted like strawberries and watermelon. And it tickled the roof of my mouth. I think I am on a sugar high."

"Oh boy," he muttered. "Why did you go to that party anyway? Don't you have studying to do?"

"Now what good does studying do?"

"Um, it gets you where you want to be?"

"What if Harvard isn't where I wanna be?" Tristan pulled into the deck of his apartment complex and quickly parked in his spot. Rory turned to him, looking upset. "Why do I have to go to Harvard? My mom didn't go to school and her life turned out just fine. And there are lot of people from Chilton who aren't in college."

"Yeah and they're living off of their parents Rory," Tristan reminded her. "You wanted to go to Harvard all your life. What suddenly happened to make you change your mind?"

Rory turned away from him and pouted. "I don't want to talk about it. I want to have fun. I never have fun. I'm boring and I'm a prude."

"Well you've had enough fun for one night," Tristan said as he got out of the car and then went over to help her out. "In fact, I think you've over-indulged."

"I think you need to have fun too, Tristan," she stated matter-of-factly. He undid her seatbelt and helped her out of the car, his arms around her waist. Giggling, she threw her arms around his neck. "Carry me."

"No," he said with a small smile and tugged her towards the elevator. She stumbled there but somehow, they managed. "You can't do that."

"Do what?" she asked innocently.

"Come home sloshed and then expect me to carry you." But Rory wasn't listening. Instead she was placing feather light kisses under his jaw line and making it increasingly difficult for him to move. "Rory, stop."

"Why?" she asked against his skin, her warm breath feeling wonderful. "This is fun."

"Rory," he managed to choke out, blood drumming in his ears. "Get a hold of yourself."

"Can't," she replied and tugged his earlobe between her teeth. "Got a hold of you."

When the elevator door pinged open, he was grateful to find an excuse to disengage her from his arms. Stepping inside, holding her firmly against him he pressed the button to the penthouse and then turned to her. "Rory, you're drunk. And you don't know what you're doing. So I'm going to take you to my apartment and put you in bed."

"Okay," she agreed and then before he knew what was happening, she was pressing her lips to his in a soft, sloppy kiss. For a minute, he lost all ability to think clearly as he kissed her back, loving the feeling of her in his arms. But the elevator door opened again to reveal the penthouse and she pulled away, giggling. "Will you be joining me?"

He slept on the couch that night. But it was what happened the next night that had changed their lives – and he wasn't sure if it was for the better.

He turned his head and glanced at the alarm clock on the side table. It was almost morning. He needed to sleep before Rory drove him out of his mind.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Rory's eyes fluttered opened and she blinked, adjusting to the sunlight. She rolled over and found herself face to face with Tristan, who was watching her with a twinge of amusement in his blue eyes. The events of the past few days came rushing back and she managed a small smile. "Hey."

"Hi," he replied. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby," she answered touching his face. "I dreamt of Grandpa."

"Yeah?"

She nodded and then grinned. "We were in Fez." 

"Was it like you imagined?" 

"Yes." She pushed back the hot lump that was forming in her throat. "I think he really wanted to go with me. God, I should've known…I should've - "

"You had no idea of knowing, Rory," Tristan soothed softly, his fingers tangling in her hair. "I'm sure Richard understood that life gets in the way of our dreams. He wanted you to have a great life, too."

Her smile was soft, sad. "I know. I just wish…"

Unbidden, the tears started again and she found herself burying her face in Tristan's neck, crying softly as he whispered soothing words in her ear, calming her down. "It's okay to miss him, Rory. And it's okay to want him back, too."

He always understood. And it still surprised her how well she knew him.

She pulled away from him and stared into his comforting, dazzling blue eyes. Those familiar eyes that she'd seen light up with different emotions – twinkling with mischief, dark with desire, pale and shimmering with sadness. 

Without thinking, she kissed him. 

In an instant, he was responding. His lips were soft and warm against her own as he pressed her back against the mattress. Her fingers tangled in his hair and hands were skimming up and down her arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake. His tongue sought entrance into her mouth and she quickly obliged, moaning softly as he kissed her, comforted her with his lips and hands.

She knew that this was unhealthy. That inevitably they would manage to screw everything up without even meaning to do so but she couldn't help it. Tristan was always there when she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in him and the comfort and pleasure that he offered without hesitation.

He tore his lips away, kissing the smooth column of her neck as his hands traveled down her body and reached the hem of nightgown. Lifting his head from her skin, his heady gaze locked with hers and in a heartbeat, she answered his unasked question by kissing him softly again.

Softly, teasingly, he pushed the fabric over her thighs and kissed her, hard and long until she was arching into him and whispering his name. "Tristan…"

Time melted away.


	5. Chapter 4: Comfort, Connections and Comp...

**Chapter 4: Comfort, Connections and Complications**

Rory slipped out of the guest room Tristan was staying in when he went to shower. Knowing that it was late enough for everyone to be awake – and any one of the houseguests could be wandering around, she peeked out first and made sure it was safe. Sighing, she walked quickly over the carpeted hallway and headed for her room.

"Good morning, sweetie." 

Rory cringed as she heard her mother's casual greeting from behind her and turned slowly, feeling like a teenager sneaking out of her boyfriend's room. Which, in a sense she was. 

Lorelai was leaning against the door of her room, mug of coffee in her hand. Her brow was arched expectantly and Rory could see slight traces of disappointment in her mother's usually amused and forgiving eyes.

Rory straightened her hair out and tried unsuccessfully to suppress the flush of her cheeks. Thinking quickly, she came up with one of the worst possible things to say in this situation. "Hey Mom. You're up early."

"It's 9:30. Breakfast is being served in five minutes," her mother informed calmly, lifted her mug and then took a sip of her coffee. "And this is my second mug."

"It smells good. I'll go put on a robe and get myself a mug before someone else does," Rory said quickly, turning slightly to indicate that she was leaving.

"Rory, just tell me you didn't."

"I can't," Sighing, Rory closed her eyes, opened them and then met her mother's gaze, nodding slight. Lorelai frowned and took another sip of her coffee to distract herself. Rory wrung her hands together and walked over to her mother, trying o explain. "I couldn't sleep and I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to have slept - "  

Lorelai stopped her by nudging her in the opposite direction. "Okay, not a good idea to talk about this in your grandparents' home, much less in their hallway with rabbit ears Beatrice around. Go put on a robe, come down for breakfast and act normal. We'll talk about this later."

Once in the safety of her own room, Rory leaned back against the door and let out a frustrated sigh. She was twenty-five years old, how the hell did she get in situations like this? Without thinking of the consequences of your actions, her conscience answered. Like you always do when Tristan is around.

She ran a hand through her tousled hair and when that didn't help settle it down, she walked over to her dresser and ran a comb roughly through it. Staring at her reflection she wondered if anyone would be able to tell what had happened. "Of course they will! You always have sex with Tristan when he gets within ten feet of you!"

She truly had no explanation for the mysterious pull Tristan DuGrey had over her. She wished she could write it off as lust and be done with it. But it was more than that. She just wanted to get out of their cycle – the sex, the inevitable fighting, the bad timing and the stupid connection that never seemed to wear away with time. It was destructive, addictive and completely…physically satisfying.

When they had been younger - when they could barely stand each other – she had been going through her first break-up and he was the person she ended up seeking comfort from.

"You're very odd, do you know that?" he asked softly and she turned to look at him, their faces inches apart. He looked so different with his attitude and ego stowed away.

"Thank you," she said with a slight smile, wondering why her heartbeat was speeding up while his lips inched closer to hers.

"You're welcome."

And their lips finally touched. Without thinking, she responded and all of a sudden everything hit her. 

Dean had broken up with her. She was kissing Tristan. **He** was comforting her. 

The tears had just started to sting her eyes and she pulled away with a small whimper. He looked surprised, confused and regretful. "I'm sorry, what did I do? Did I bite your lip or something?"

"No it's not you."

It hadn't been him the next time, either.

Looking critically at herself in the mirror, her upper lip curled in disgust. "Is it possible for someone to get stupider with age?"

Because that's what she was beginning to think. At least when she was sixteen she had the sense to know that kissing him while mending a broken heart was wrong. At least she knew when to walk - or run – away. 

Rory shifted uncomfortably in her sleep, her head pounding unbearably. When her eyes shot open she groaned loudly at the sudden attack of light. Mumbling, she sat up in bed, looked at her clothes from the night before and leaned against the headboard for support. 

Then she remembered she didn't have a headboard.

Her eyes opened cautiously this time and she took in the unfamiliar bedroom. Before she could remember what happened, the door opened from the right and Tristan walked in, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, a mug in his hands and an amused smile on his face. "Morning Mary."

Her eyes narrowed immediately and she ignored the throbbing at her temples at the effort. "What am I doing here?"

"You don't remember?" he asked innocently. "Well you got drunk at a frat party, I rescued you and brought you here, you tried to jump me and then fell onto the bed sighing and mumbling something about Mark Paul Gosselar."

She was about to open her mouth and retort that she would never do such a thing when she remembered she had. Mortified she covered her face with her hands, about to cry. "Oh my God!"

She felt him sit down on the bed beside. His voice came out reassuringly but she knew that he was amused at her expense. "It was nothing. At least you're here with me rather than that carrot top guy that was trying to pick you up."

"If you're trying to make me feel better, it's not working," Rory said as she looked up at him miserably. 

He handed her the mug and then wagged a finger at her. "See that's why I have a contingency plan. Just in case my charm and charismatic good looks didn't do the trick. Although that's never happened before."

Smiling despite her embarrassment, she took in a deep breath of coffee. "Ah, that smells wonderful. You're a Godsend."

He smirked. "I know."

"I was talking to the coffee," she shot at him before taking a sip.

"Still odd. Mental faculties working perfectly. No harm done."

After a few relaxing minutes with her favorite drink she finally looked at him sheepishly. "I really am sorry for…well getting drunk. It was stupid and something I will never do again."

"Hey you're talking to the king of overindulgence," he stated with an understanding smile. "You don't have to explain."

She gave him a grateful smile in return and without thinking she spoke. "Let me take you out to dinner." His brow arched and his lips started curving. "You're here for a few more days and I thought we could…hang out. And I could repay you for making sure I didn't leave with Carrot Top."

"Well you don't need to repay me." Her heart sank. "But I'd be stupid to turn you down when you're asking me out."

"Smooth." Rolling her eyes she finished the remaining coffee.

The events of that night had been the catalyst for permanently rooting Tristan DuGrey in her life…and, if she was honest with herself – her heart.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Paris glanced up from the newspaper as Lorelai walked into the dining room just as breakfast was about to be served in the Gilmore mansion. The older woman looked worried as she stopped at the breakfast cart to fill herself some orange juice. Over the years, Paris knew that Lorelai only looked like that when her reason to worry had something to do with Rory.

Seeing that no one else was in the room, thus making it easier to discuss the issue at hand, Paris folded the newspaper and placed it on the table as Lorelai sat down. "Good morning, Lorelai."

"Hey Paris."

"How are you feeling?"

Lorelai took a sip of her juice and shrugged her shoulders. "Empty, kind of. Like there's a hole in my heart that won't close up."

"It gets better." Knowing the words were trite, Paris gave her a look of genuine concern and understanding. Clearing her throat, she thought of the best way to approach the subject without saying the wrong thing. "Is Rory okay?"

Lorelai's expression turned almost bitter. "Well she better be after what happened last night."

Feeling like she knew where this was headed, Paris plunged forward. "What happened last night?"

The brunette met her gaze looking defeated. "She went to Tristan's room. I saw her coming out when I went to call her. She claims that it was because she couldn't sleep. But with those two nothing's ever - "

"Innocent," Paris finished with a sigh. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the chair contemplatively. "Well, maybe it isn't a big deal. They've done things like this plenty of times before. She'll be okay."

"That's just it," the other woman said, shaking her head. "I don't want her to 'be okay' every time they have a tryst and he leaves her. I want her to have some kind of reaction…some kind of conviction. I want her to learn her lesson. God, sometimes she reminds me so much of - "

"You?"

"I hate when you finish my sentences for me like that," Lorelai stated with a small huff. "But yes, I wish she were a little less like me when it comes to men. This is me and Chris all over again – same plotline, different dialogue."

Paris made a mental note of that statement, hoping to analyze it later. "Maybe because they're so much like you and Christopher they'll always be a part of each others lives. Especially after what happened last ti - " 

She trailed off when Tristan sauntered into the room, followed by Jess and Christopher. At the same time, Emily and Luke entered from the kitchen and Lorelai threw Paris a look that asked her to be quiet. 

"Mom," Lorelai asked softly as everyone took a seat. "Aren't you going to have something?"

Emily looked at her daughter and then glanced at the empty place that Richard usually occupied. "I'm not hungry." 

Paris reached for Jess' hand under the table as an unusual silence fell over the guests. He glanced at her and then stroked her knuckles with his thumb, reassuringly. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Breakfast at the Gilmores' for Tristan was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of the morning. Rory sat across from him but he might as well have been invisible. She didn't bother to acknowledge his existence. That meant she wouldn't bother to acknowledge the sex.

That was fine by him. 

Because acknowledging what they did would mean it actually happened - and it would be easier for him to return to New York if he could pretend it never did.

He was not going to make the same mistakes over and over again.

He turned around and looked at her as she emerged from the room, dressed and looking anxious, confused and somewhat afraid. "Rory? You okay?" 

She looked at him blankly "I have to leave."

"I got that from all the nervous energy you're exuding. But why?"

"Because we had sex. And that was bad. Well, not the sex. The sex was very good - " When he looked at her with a confused and offended expression, she trailed off. Sighing, she sat down on the couch and he followed suit and sat down beside her. 

"What's this about?" he asked, looking at her sideways.

"This isn't the right time. I see you after a year all of sudden - you came to Boston to take care of something for your grandfather and I got drunk at a college frat party – and we ended up sleeping together. I was upset, Tristan. Last night shouldn't have happened."

"But it did happen, Rory. You can't run away from that."

"I'm not running," she replied indignantly. "I'm telling you that I just had an ugly break-up with my boyfriend and a fight with my grandmother and I got drunk…I'm not in that place where I can plunge into another relationship. And you were talking about moving to Boston this morning…"

"And you think that I shouldn't?" he asked, his face expressionless.

She looked at him, eyes imploring him. "I don't want you moving here thinking that something might come out of this. I don't want us to have this stupid, dependant, Dawson Leery-Joey Potter angst-filled, can't-live-my-life-without-my-neurotic-self-proclaimed-soul mate type of relationship where we keep each other from living our lives..."

As she blabbered on, his mind was replaying another similar incident where once again something about their relationship meant more to him than it did to her. He thought about the time she had come to him in the middle of a crowded Chilton hallway to ask him not to mention their one, brief, high school kiss to her then boyfriend Dean.

"Look, things are really good for me and Dean right now, and I don't want anything to mess that up. Especially not something that meant nothing at all to me and I wished had never happened in the first place."

That kiss had meant nothing to her and he had been burnt. Now she was sitting in his living room telling him that their night together had meant anything to her either.

And this time, he had learned his lesson.

"Don't you think you're getting a little ahead of yourself, Mary?" he said suddenly, putting emphasis on her nickname.

She looked up at him startled by the aloof, cold tone of his voice. "What?"

"Like you said, it was sex. That's it," he answered with a small grin. "My moving to Boston had nothing to do with you."

"I – I'm sorry, I assumed that you... after this morn -" she looked away from him rubbing the back of her neck.

"It was pillow talk," Tristan answered as if speaking to a child. "It usually follows after what we did. What you think I'm just some hopeless guy who uproots his life because you dangled a carrot in front of his face for a night? It was sex - pure and simple. You have a lot to learn, little girl."

He could see the hurt flash across her face for a brief second but he was too angry to care. She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and then got off the bed. When she spoke, her voice was as distant as his. "Well, now that that is settled. I'll leave. Goodbye, Tristan."

"Goodbye Mary."


	6. Chapter 5: Never Over You

Author's Note: Hi everyone! Remember this fic? Yes, it's been neglected for a long time so I thought I'd give it whirl. Hopefully this chapter is not completely unfortunate. Enjoy!

Chapter 5: Never Over You 

Rory was startled by the knock on her door as she stepped out of the shower. Wrapping her towel tightly around her body and then stepping out of the bathroom, she called out. "Who is it?"

"It's me," Tristan's voice called out, so familiar and so safe; so not what she needed right then. "Can I come in?"

_Too late to be asking_; she thought wryly. _You're already in too deep_. Out loud, she answered him. "Yeah, sure."

He opened the door and stepped in cautiously as if he didn't know what to expect. Self-consciously, she hugged herself – belatedly realizing that it was a bad idea to let him in when she was wrapped only in a towel. _You could be wearing a parka and if he wanted to, he'd find some way to take that off too_, her conscience jeered her. _And you'd let him_.

He stood near the door, hands in his pockets his eyes wandering everywhere except in her direction. Rubbing the back of his neck, he let out a sigh. "I'm going to go see my grandfather."

"I didn't know he was in Hartford," Rory returned with a small smile, thinking fondly of Janlan DuGrey.

"He wasn't until this morning," Tristan replied shortly. "He found out about Richard and came back. There's some trouble with the chauffer or something so I'm going to go pick him up and bring him over."

"You don't have," she said pulling her wet hair away from her face. "I mean I'm sure someone can -"

"He needs to talk to me about something," he interrupted and crossed the length of the room, coming to stand in front of her. "He specifically asked me to come. Knowing him, it's probably something important. Unless, you need me to stay."

"No," she replied quickly, meeting his gaze. "I don't need you."

His eyes turned cold and he nodded slowly. "Okay then."

She flinched a little when he turned to leave. "This morning…"

He stopped and let out a sigh but didn't turn around. "What about it? It was just…"

Anger boiled inside her. "Just sex, right?"

He turned this time, looking at her with a steely expression. Then his eyes changed as his gaze left hers and traveled down the length of her towel-clad body. Smiling a little, he reached over and let his index finger trail over the still damp skin of her collarbone. When she shivered a bit, he smiled satisfactorily. "Like it's always been, Mary."

"I just wanted to make sure," she replied, an edge in her voice as his fingers dipped lower, flirting with the knot of the towel right under her arm.

"That I didn't get any other idea," he asked absently, tugging the knot loose a little. "We've been through this part enough times. I have my lines memorized. You know them too, don't you?"

"Yes." She held the tears that were stinging her eyes at bay, as his fingers continued their ministrations and she felt her body respond to them willingly. 

Now it was a battle for power. If she protested and told him to leave it would mean she cared too much. If she didn't then it would prove that she didn't care either way.

With their history, she knew the latter was much safer.

"Good." His arm snaked around her waist and tugged her to him. His lips came down on hers, hard at first but instantly softening when she responded. One of his hands slipped up between their bodies and under her towel to knead her breast. Unbidden, the tears finally spilled onto her cheeks and his hands immediately came up to her face, gently cupping her cheeks. He pulled away slowly, almost achingly, his eyes searching hers. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. Now is not the time."

Now that she wasn't helplessly kissing him back, her anger unfurled again. Tightening the towel around her body again, she scowled darkly at him. "Why not? It's never stopped you before."

He stepped away from her and ran a hand through his hair and let out a frustrated breath. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm going to go now before I say something really stupid. I don't want a house full of people after me for upsetting you more than I already have."

The last thing she was expecting from him was a genuine apology. It shocked her so much that she nodded mutely as he left her alone again, in her room. Wiping her tears away, she snapped out of her self-pity and finished dressing. 

Hair still damp, she crossed the room several time looking for her shoes. She looked under the bed and then walked over to the closet, which was empty except for a few boxes and old clothes. Fortunately, her shoes were perched neatly on the rack.  As she bent down to retrieve them, her eyes flitted over to a hot pink photo box with the label "Rory" printed out in her mother's handwriting. Curious, she pulled it out and carried out of the closet and over to the bed.

A short laugh escaped her lips when she opened the lid and laid eyes on the first picture. Taken at least three years ago, it featured Luke dressed up as Santa, Lorelai on his knee and Rory rolling her eyes in the background at the hilarity. She lifted the first stack out of the box and sifted through them, memories hitting her full force. Pictures of her with Paris at their new apartment in Boston, some older pictures with her and Jess as a couple back when they were eighteen, one with Louise and Madeline at a Halloween party last year and couple with Lane in San Francisco. 

Then, there were a few of her with Tristan. She was surprised that her mother had even kept these pictures, especially since she knew how Lorelai felt about him. But these pictures were taken at happier times in her relationship with Tristan, one with them under the mistletoe, one at graduation and a couple from their trip to Nantucket early in her sophomore year at college. 

"We've had some great times, Tristan," she whispered to no one.

She put those away and lifted another set out, opening the envelope curiously, a small smile on her face. But the next few pictures tugged at her heart in pain rather than joy. They were ones of her with Richard in New York and Boston. Some of them were with her grandparents at various occasions in her life – Emily smiling for the camera in genuine mirth and Richard trying to remain regal but looking silly.

Lost in memories, she almost missed hearing the soft knock at the door. She looked up startled and hoped that it wasn't Tristan – she didn't need him to see her so upset. "Come in."

"Hey honey," Christopher said as he opened the door and stepped inside. "You were gone for quite a while and I wanted to see if you were okay. I saw Tristan leave a few minutes ago and figured that you'd be…"

"Upset?" she filled in with a rueful smile. He nodded slowly. "A little." 

"God," Christopher spat out in disgust. "That kid doesn't give up, does he? Here you are going through hell and he just comes in here like he owns the place and tries to fix something that - "

Rory raised her hand to stop his angry tirade. "Dad, it's okay. I handled it. Not very well but it's done. I don't want to go into another saga of Tristan and Rory, okay? Not today."

Her father nodded and walked over to the bed, sitting down next to his daughter. "I just talked to Sherry. They're cutting their trip short and heading back to the good ol' US of A as we speak."

Rory made a disappointed face. "What? They shouldn't have done that; George was having fun in Europe!"

Sherry and her father had divorced, two years after the birth of Georgia "George" Hayden, Rory's eight year old half sister. Mother and daughter lived a half an hour away from Rory's apartment and two blocks down from Christopher's house. Despite the drama between Lorelai, Christopher and Sherry and the years separating both sisters, Rory loved George from the moment she saw her wrapped in a blanket at the hospital.

"Honey, they want to be here for you," he said, clasping her hand. "You know how much they love you."

Rory nodded and smiled. "I love them too. I've missed George like crazy. It'll be good to see her."

"Uplifting too, I hope." 

She slipped the pictures back into the envelope and shrugged. "That might take some time, you know," she paused to look around the room and felt tears well up in her eyes again. "It's going to be hard without him. Especially for Grandma." 

Christopher nodded and put an arm around her. "But it will get better, I promise. And Emily is a tough lady. Believe me, I know. The Gilmore women are a tough and rare breed and somehow you manage to land on your feet."

"Or fall flat on our faces," she said with a half-hearted laugh. When Christopher smiled at her, she took in a deep breath and asked him a question that had been plaguing her for so long. "Dad, what really happened between you and mom?" 

If he was startled by the question he didn't show it. "My life has led me back to one place, one person it's your mother. Even before you were born. There are many ways to answer that question, I suppose. None of them would really explain my situation with her."

"I'll re-phrase the question. Do you love her?"

He looked at her sharply, looking her in the eyes so she knew he'd tell her the truth. "I'll always love your mother, Rory. No one comes close." 

She stood up, upset. "What does that _mean_, Dad? How can you say that mom is the love of your life and not to anything about it? I mean if you feel so strongly and there was a time in both of your lives when you two believed you were soul mates then how can she be married to Luke while you live in Boston, being the oldest bachelor ever?"

"It's not that simple, Rory!" he protested as he stood up. "Your mother and I have a very weird history, you know that. You lived through it for so long. It just never worked – it was never the right time. I know that maybe that's a lame excuse but that's how it is. Now she's married to Luke and she's happy. I can't possibly take away from that, regardless of our history." 

"I know," she sighed and rubbed her temple. "I'm sorry."

"Where did that come from?"

She didn't really know why she suddenly needed to get that off her chest but she suspected that it had something to do with Tristan's visit and the night before. 

Somehow, it always came back to him. 

She shrugged and went to hug her father. "It's been a upsetting week."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Tristan idly flipped through the _Forbes _magazine as he waited for his grandfather to come downstairs after his shower. His eyes flitted over facts and figures without much interest because his mind was too busy processing everything that had happened ever since he came back home.

He was still thinking of Rory. Like he always did. 

"Tristan darling, hello," Arabella DuGrey greeted her son as she flitted into the room, blond hair pulled back primly. He stood up to give her an obligatory hug, taking in the scent of her favorite and familiar perfume – something or the other by Elizabeth Taylor. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, pulled away and wiped off the lipstick stain she left. "What time did you get in last night? I didn't see you at the funeral until later and then you just left so soon."

"Rory needed me."

"Yes, she probably does." She nodded in understanding, brown eyes softening. His mother may have chosen oblivious to his needs and wants when he was growing up, but she was not clueless to her son's tumultuous relationship with Rory. Several times, in fact she had asked him – and then urged him to marry her. "How are Emily and Lorelai holding up?"

"Emily's quiet, mostly. Lorelai looks like she wants me to go back to New York as soon as I can," he replied with a mirthless chuckle. "I might actually comply this time."

Arabella walked over to the liquor cabinet and filled two glasses with brandy. "Something happened?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable. The only thing that his mother ever openly discussed with him was the topic of Rory Gilmore. At first he wasn't sure why but as time wore on, he realized that his mother – in all her dysfunction and neglect - wanted to see him with her, married and raising a family. And it bugged him. "The usual."

"That's _usually_ bad," she quipped with a small smile and took a sip of her drink.

He walked over to her and picked up the other glass of brandy and swallowed it in one shot. Gripping the empty glass tightly, he frowned. "I know."

In a spontaneous and rare gesture she placed a hand on his forearm. "It will be okay."

"No it won't," a voice barked from behind them and they turned to find Janlan standing in the doorway. At seventy, the patriarch of the DuGrey family was still healthy and handsome. His once boyish good looks were now distinguished and his the unruly, trademark blond hair was now silvery and slicked back. He was a stern man with warmth in his eyes and a generous heart beating behind the tough, ruthless business-like exterior. "The boy manages to screw up every time." 

Tristan smiled dryly as Arabella wisely left the two men alone. "Hello Grandfather, nice to see you too."

Janlan waved him off dismissively. "No time for silly formalities. I am here for the Gilmores in their time of need. You may have failed to officially make them relatives but to me they've always been family."

"Why does everyone treat me like I am the bad guy?"

Janlan considered that for a second as he walked into the room. "I'll give you that, my boy. That woman you are so crazy about is not entirely blameless."

"Thank you," Tristan stated bitterly.  "For the record, she _drives_ me crazy."

"Woman have been doing that to me since the beginning of time, Tristan. Do you think that you and Rory are the first ones to ever fall in love?" he asked rhetorically. "The thing is – no one ever said love was easy. You and that Gilmore girl seem to think it is." 

"Are you kidding me?" Tristan asked, incredulously. "If anyone knows how hard it is to love someone it's me." 

"Then stop doing things half way, dammit!"

"Meaning?"

Janlan sighed as if he were talking to a complete idiot. "Son, every time you say that it's over or that you two will never be able to be together it turns out that the next time I talk to you, you've gone back to her. You say you're over her but the minute the two of you get into arms length of each other…well let's just say that nothing good comes of it." 

"That's my fault?" Tristan asked petulantly. 

"I'm not placing blame, boy. I'm merely stating that if you say you're over her than move on with your life. If you're not than do something about it. Rory is neither a mind reader nor is she clairvoyant," Janlan explained. "One of you is going to have to grow up." 

"Grandfather - " he started to say but the older man cut him off with a silencing glare. "You don't understand. It's not that easy."

Janlan shook his head and walked towards the entrance of the living room. "Forget it, Tristan. Let's go. I need to off my condolences to Emily and her family. I don't have time master-mind love connection." 

When his grandfather left Tristan pocketed his hands, stood in the room for a minute preparing himself to see Rory again – this time with Janlan DuGrey watching their every move. Things could not get worse. 


	7. Chapter 6: The Memory Of Your Face

**_Author's Ramblings_**_: Okay, so I'm on a roll with this. And guess what? All the flashbacks in this chapter are mine! Yay me! _

**_Thanks to_**_: Chris and Susie for being sounding boards. _

Chapter 6: The Memory Of Your Face 

_"What are you doing?" Rory asked, laughing nervously as he grabbed her hand and yanked her off her seat at the restaurant. There was gleam in his eyes that only meant one thing: he was going to do something impulsive. And make her do it with him. She looked around apprehensively as people from other tables turned a little to see what was going on. He pulled her close and she shot him a wary smile. "Tristan?"_

_He smiled back at her, slipping one arm around her waist and clasped her right hand in his. "Dance with me."_

_"What?" she asked and then laughed disbelievingly. "I don't think we're supposed to be dancing here."_

_"And why not?" he asked as he brought both of her arms around his neck and his own around her waist. "There's music and two very good looking people in an embrace. I think dancing would be inevitable."_

_She shook her head and smiled in amusement. "Incorrigible."_

_"Thank you."_

Rory smiled a little at the memory as she flipped through the same photo album she had been looking at since her father had left her room. There were mostly pictures with Tristan and she couldn't help but look at them over and over again, trying desperately to recreate that feeling that stirred inside her every time they were happy together.   

She remembered the time when he had no power over her. When the times were simpler and she was sixteen and oblivious to what real passion, real pain was all about. When she didn't love him and he was just a boy she knew – one she didn't like very much. Back when they had only kissed in a moment of weakness, formed a tentative yet doomed friendship and then he had been shipped off to military school while she returned to her life, her dream of greatness in the heart of Stars Hollow. 

But he waltzed back into her life as easily as he had left and after their second meeting, she was never the same again.

_She turned away from the table after collecting her cap and gown, the crowd parted ever so slightly, as if she were in a movie and saw him standing there, talking to a guy. His hands were in his pockets and he laughed a little at what the other guy said and nodded when he walked away. She remained rooted, wondering what he was doing back and_ _little shocked to see him there as if he had never left.  He turned and his eyes landed on her. _

_She expelled the breath she didn't even know she was holding. A slow, devastatingly handsome smile spread across his face as their eyes locked and he moved towards her, weaving effortlessly through the throng of Chilton students. _

_Then, he was standing in front of her and her heart was racing a million miles an hour. There was that meaningful gleam in his eyes again, the one that sent a little shiver racing up her spine. "Hello Mary."_

_The use of her nickname and the familiar way his voice sounded when he said it sent her out of her daze and she felt her lips quirking into an unwilling smile. "Tristan DuGrey. What are you doing here?"_

_He waved his hand in the direction of all the activity around them. "Graduation, of course. Grandfather pulled some strings and here I am. Did you miss me?"_

_He hadn't changed. He was still confident, even more so if it was possible, he definitely seemed taller and if she weren't afraid his head would explode, she would have told him that he looked more handsome than she remembered. Shaking her head slightly in disbelief she managed to sound sincere. "I did."_

_Something flickered in his eyes. Happiness? She couldn't be sure but her heart flipped a little when he smiled at her and slid an arm around her shoulder. He led her outside into the courtyard. "Good to know."_

After graduation, she had seen him at a few parties, always making out with some girl or the other. It bothered her a bit because she had hoped if something had changed it would have been his womanizing ways. But she was with Jess then and it was something she got used to. Soon, she was leaving for Harvard and he headed to Yale. She got a phone call from him and they promised that they would write to one another. 

Then, in one letter he announced that he was coming to Boston for a long weekend for his Grandfather and those three days had changed his place in her life completely. She had been obsessing about a bad grade – the result of working too hard, her grandparents unbelievably high expectations and then finally an ugly, heart wrenching yet inevitable break up with Jess. 

She was so miserably immersed in her problems that she had rejected his offer to join him and Paris to lunch the day he arrived in Boston. When her two friends didn't return from lunch, she assumed they were out somewhere – having fun or making out. As ridiculous as that thought sounded it was highly plausible. For Tristan, because he'd make out with any girl with breasts and for Paris, because even though she was over her crush on him, hadn't really closed the door on that opportunity. 

That idea has sickened her and she ended up at the frat party, where she got drunk and ended up in Tristan's bed. Alone. He had been sweet and understanding and she had asked him out the following night – to thank him. 

Little did she know that, Fate had other plans. 

"Here you go," Tristan said as he handed her a mug of coffee and sat down on his sofa, next to her. "So you're feeling better, now?"

_She nodded slightly and took a tentative sip of the hot liquid. "Yeah, getting all that stuff off my chest felt really nice. I don't want you to take it the wrong way, Tristan. I love my grandparents and I know they want what's best for me. I just feel like there's so much pressure on me right now. I just started college and I already feel overwhelmed."_

_"That's natural."_

_"I know," she answered and placed the mug on the coffee table in front of them. "I just never thought it would be like this. In high school, I couldn't wait to get here and give it my all."_

_"And now it seems like your all isn't going to be enough?" _

_She sighed a bit, amazed that he understood her so well. "Yes."_

_He placed his hand on her knee in a comforting gesture. "I wish I could tell you that everything is going to be okay and that you're worrying for nothing but I can't. Because I don't know what everything is going to be like. All I know is that you, Rory, have got to be one of the most intelligent and determined people I know. You have the love and support of all of your family and friends and of course that quirky town of Stars Hollow – and that…that's going to be enough." _

_She looked up at him sideways, touched, and then she started laughing. "I can't believe you pulled that off."_

_"I can pull anything off. I'm a good actor, remember?" he teased back with a laugh. "I meant it, though." _

_She nodded slightly and smiled. "Thank you."_

_The look on his face was so intense; his eyes were bright and sincere. He looked like he did the night they had kissed at Madeline's party. It was so rare to see him like this without the smirk, the innuendo or that gleam in his eyes. _

_She was drawn to him all of a sudden like he had some magnetic pull over her._

_ And before either of them knew what was happening, they were kissing passionately. He scooped her into his arms and carried her into his bedroom. _

She remembered tugging at his shirt and pulling it above his head. 

She remembered him asking if she was sure. 

In response, she had kissed him so hard that it removed all doubt from both of their minds.

She had lost herself to him that night. 

Rory closed her eyes to keep her tears at bay. That night had been amazing. He had made her first time special and memorable, kissing her, touching her so that every nerve in her body was on edge, putting her needs and pleasure above his and treating her like she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

The next morning they had screwed it up.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Tristan bounced his knee, ever so slightly as he was seated next to his Grandfather in the back of Janlan's Rolls. Janlan had confessed he had told a little white lie about the car being in repairs to get Tristan to come pick him up. He was confused. He knew that his grandfather wanted him to come over to pick him up and that meant Janlan had a reason or a lecture. But the older DuGrey said nothing. A little unnerved, he opted to remain quite as well, watching the mansions passing by through the window. 

Why get into something he wasn't going to enjoy anyway?

"How's Lorelai doing?" Janlan asked finally.

"Okay, I guess," he answered, shifting a little in his place. "But you know, Lorelai. She's in control. Taking care of everyone in that house all by herself."

"She's a good woman," his grandfather said contemplatively. "She doesn't like you very much."

He snorted at the understatement. "Yeah, I know." 

_"Oh yeah! Go ahead. Walk away, Tristan." _

_He turned around, scowling and almost growled at the older woman. "What do you want from me?"_

"For once, I want you to get over your pride and talk to my daughter. Not at her but with her!" Lorelai answered, sounding angry and desperate at the same time. "She has done nothing to deserve this kind of treatment from you. Especially after what she's been through and - "

_"What about what I have been through, Lorelai?" he cut her off. "Does that even matter to anyone? None of this has been easy for me, either and I'm sick and tired of all of you making it all about her."_

_Lorelai was shocked by the harshness of his tone but he was beyond caring about what she thought of him at that moment. She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a contemptuous glare. "You selfish bastard." _

He let out a bitter, derisive chuckle. "Selfish? Yeah. Bastard? Well no. I assure you of my legitimacy, madam." 

_"Get out!"_

_"I'm sorry, Lorelai, this isn't something you can control," he responded, leaning against the door. He swept one arm in the air in a dramatic gesture. "This is Rory's apartment and she's not sixteen, anymore. You can't order anyone out."_

_She shook her head in disappointment. "What happened to you?"_

_His jaw set rigidly. "Your daughter happened to me."_

"Tristan?" Janlan snapped a finger in front of his face and yanked him out of his reverie. "We're here."

"Oh," he said and got out of the car and followed his grandfather into the Gilmore mansion. At least now he wouldn't feel so isolated inside. He had another DuGrey on his side now.

The two men entered the living room that seemed to be occupied by all the inhabitants of house from the morning: Emily, Lorelai, Luke, Christopher, Paris and Jess. Rory was standing near the glass door that led to the garden, unaware of anything going on around her. He stood in a corner as Janlan embraced Emily and Lorelai and offered his condolence and then walked over to Rory, not saying a word.

"Janlan," she said finally looking up at him and accepting his embrace. "How are you?"

"Oh you know me, I manage," he answered with a warm smile.

A wide smile spread across her face at that and Tristan looked away. So much for having Janlan on his side. Who was he kidding? His grandfather would take Rory's side in a heartbeat. Tristan slinked over to the drink cart and poured himself a small glass of brandy. It was too early to be drinking but he was going to need it in a room full of people who hated him. He lifted the glass to his mouth and swallowed the contents in one greedy gulp. He glanced down at the bottle and murmured, "my only friend." 

"I wish you'd stop drinking," Rory reprimanded him as he paced in study. He looked up to see her standing at the door, a purse in her hand and a smile on her face. "I hate it when you get drunk."

_He gave her a charming grin. "It's only one glass of brandy."_

_"That's how it starts," she corrected him as she walked over to the desk and deposited her purse. "So what's wrong?"_

_"My father's getting on my nerves. You didn't have to come."_

_She shrugged and leaned against the desk. "You sounded real upset on the phone. I wanted to make sure you were okay. What did Mr. DuGrey do now?" _

_It was his turn to shrug as he came to his desk and leaned against it too. "The usual. My grades weren't satisfactory. My credit card bills were too high. I spent too much money on jewelry…"_

_Her brows furrowed at that and she reached dangled the diamond bracelet on her left wrist in front of his face and looked at him accusingly. "You said this didn't too much."_

_He smiled, pulled her wrist to his lips and kissed it softly. "It didn't."_

_"Tristan! I don't want to be the reason you and your dad are fighting," she pouted a little and he had to check the urge to kiss her. "Do you still have the receipt for this? You could return it."_

_"I gave it to you as a gift. I'm not returning it. To hell with William."_

_Her eyes widened and he wanted to laugh at the dismay in her eyes. Rory always believed that if he tried harder, he could manage to make amends with his father. He didn't have the heart to tell her that some parent-child relations weren't always as easy to fix, as was the one she had with Lorelai. "Tristan, he's your father."_

_"Yes. We share the same DNA. That's about it, Rory." He stood straighter and pulled her up with him, sliding his arms around her waist. She seemed disappointed in him but he ignored it. "Let's not talk about my father. I'm glad you came."_

_"I came to see you if you were okay and since you obviously are, I'm going to go. I need to study."_

_"Stay a while," he whispered in her ear and then nipped it with his teeth. When she shuddered a little, he smiled in satisfaction. "I have my own apartment which means I have no roommates. We're alone." _

_He kissed the skin behind her ear and then trailed kisses down the side of her neck. _

_"I really need to study. I really need to - " she started to say but he cut her off by covering her mouth with his. _

_They didn't talk after that. _

A hand weighed on his shoulder and he turned to see Janlan behind him. "Are you okay?"

"Just thinking."

"Ah yes." Janlan filled helped himself to a glass of brandy, knowing Emily would not mind. "Memories can haunt your soul."

Tristan's lips twisted wryly. Hell yeah. 


	8. Chapter 7: Friends and Lovers

**Chapter 7: Friends and Lovers**

There were a few things in life that Paris Gellar was sure of: the national debt would never be paid, that she would never love anyone the way she did Jess and that Tristan DuGrey was a glutton for punishment. He'd have to be for standing in a room full of people who would love to dismember him in seconds if only given the command. Except her. A twisted sense of loyalty, Jess called it. 

While Christopher, Luke and her fiancé stood in the far corner of the living room, sending death glares to Tristan every couple of seconds, Lorelai, Emily and Rory sat on the sofas in the middle listening to Janlan DuGrey talking fondly of Richard. Tristan was doing his best to ignore the three men and nurse a glass of brandy, his gaze fixed on Rory who would not look up or even acknowledge him. 

Paris wanted to slap the both upside the head.

Unfortunately, she knew that their problems were not so easily solved and aggression would only further complicate things. Sighing, she crossed the room to join Tristan near the drink cart. It had been awhile since she last spoke with him, maybe this time her words could make a difference.

"It's too early to be drinking," she reprimanded softly as she stood beside him.

"Yes, mother." He finally looked away from the source of his anguish. There was a smirk on his lips but no real amusement in his eyes. He lifted his glass of brandy in a mock salute and downed the last drop. "All gone."

"We need to talk."

"Okay," he replied as he turned around and reached for the decanter. She quickly grabbed his hand to stop him; he looked up a little irritated. "If we're going to talk about what I think we're going to talk about then I'm going to need this drink." 

"You're going to need a lot more than brandy if you get drunk and make a scene today, in front of all these people who would like nothing more than to beat you up and then throw you out of this house." She gave him one of those glares she reserved for when she was completely pissed off and it seemed to work because he let go of the decanter. 

She directed him out of the living room, pausing to give Jess a warning not to follow. Once they were out in the foyer, she turned to him eyebrow raised. He blinked twice and then looked slightly perturbed. "What?"

"What are you doing?" she asked, hands on hips. "I mean, here in Hartford. At this mansion…in her life again."

"Um, you're fiancé called me and told me she just lost her grandfather and that I might be needed. I'm here with my grandfather who was a close, family friend and to accomplish all of that, I had to step into her life again just like she's stepping back into mine," he replied a hint of bitterness in his words. "Don't make me out to the bad guy, Gellar. I thought you were on my side."

"She's my best friend, she's family. I'm stuck, okay? God knows I don't want to be. In fact, I really want to be neutral in all of this – Canada, for crying out loud! But I can't be because both of your just don't seem to let up."

"I'm sorry we can't be more accommodating, Paris."

She sighed, rubbed her temple and decided a different approach. "So how are you? In general."

He shrugged, examined his fingernails. "The same, I guess. What about you? The wedding plans going on full swing, I bet."

She smiled a little, thinking of how the preparation of her big day. "Yeah, it's a hectic for sure. The invitations were going to go out this weekend but I guess they'll have to wait. You'll be there, right?"

At first, she knew he was planning on avoiding the whole thing. But something in him had cracked and she was grateful for it. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

She reached for his hand, a gesture that caught him off guard but alerted him that she was about to say something important. "I don't think my parents will be coming to the wedding - "

"Of course they're going to come."

She shook her head and smiled sadly. "I've come to terms with it. They never supported my relationship with Jess, why should this be any different?" She held his gaze; looking so earnest he was reminded of the sixteen-year-old girl he used to know. "The reason I am telling you this is because I want you to give me away."

His eyes widened and he stepped back, a little surprised. "Paris, I – what about someone else, like Luke or Christopher?"

"Luke is from Jess' side of the family and Christopher and I have never been as close as I have been to you. You've been my family for so long, Tristan. Please say you'll do it."

"Yes," he replied enveloping her in a hug. "Of course, I'll do it. It'll be an honor." 

She returned the hug and pulled back a bit, to look him in the eyes again. "You can bring a guest."

"Paris."

"That blonde, with the long legs…Amber, was it?"

He snorted. "Bitch on wheels."

She shook her head and wracked her brain for another name. "What about that woman you were seeing? That doctor…Susan? I thought the two of you were serious," she asked, folding her arms across her chest. "Don't tell me you broke it off with her. She was good for you."

"She didn't think so," Tristan answered with a mirthless chuckle. "She broke it off a few weeks ago. It hurt and I miss her. But I can't blame her – she was right. I was looking for something in her that was never going to be there."

Paris knew exactly what that was. She nodded and stroked her hand down his arm in a comforting gesture. The next few days were going to be rough on him, if he decided to stick around Hartford. 

She thought of the way he was looking at Rory earlier and knew he would.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

"Penny for your thoughts," a familiar voice said behind Lorelai and made her smile. She turned on the stool to see Christopher, standing in the kitchen doorway. 

"Oh, they're worth a lot more these days," she answered and fingered the lid of her water bottle. She lifted the bottle to her mouth and took a sip. "A whole lot more."

"I can tell," he answered and pulled up a stool to sit next to her. "You're drinking water. How are you holding up?"

She sighed, rubbed the skin above her brow and shrugged. "I don't know. I feel like there's too much to deal with, too much I should be feeling but I can't because I do I might just breakdown and Mom and Rory don't need that."

Christopher reached for her hand, smoothed his palm over it. "You don't always have to be so strong, Lorelai."

She scoffed lightly. "If I'm not who's going to be? Mom is a mess. Don't even get me started on Rory. Tristan's here so I guess it's 'enough said' and all but I just don't even want to think about what's going to happen now that he's here and if he plans on staying." 

He shook his head, looking angry. "I can't believe the nerve of that guy. He just expects to come in here and drag Rory down with him."

"It's not his fault," Lorelai answered, feeling an unfamiliar bout of compassion for the man that had made Rory's life miserable. "Not all of it. Jess called him to let him know. It was all good until this morning."

Christopher didn't have to ask what she meant. Sighing he ran a hand through his hair and then curled it around his nape in a gesture of helplessness. "That's why she was so…lost earlier this morning when I went to talk to her. She wanted to know why the two of us never worked out." 

Lorelai smiled a little sadly, that was part of her life she had not come to terms with either. "What did you tell her?"

"That I loved you," he replied honestly, looking her in the eyes. "And that you were happy with Luke and I can't take that away from that now. It wasn't meant to be – maybe it never was." 

She smiled. "Thank you."

He let out a frustrated sigh. "I keep wanting to bash his head in or yell at her to set things straight and send him on his way."

"But…" she prompted, sensing there was reason he was holding back.

"But they're not sixteen anymore," he finished with a sheepish smile. 

"Yeah, they're not. Oh Chris," she said and leaned forward to hug him. "You know that I love you too and am so glad that you came here. As much as I might not say it, I need you here for our daughter." 

"No where else I'd rather be right now." He kissed her forehead and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Maybe this time, Rory and Tristan can work it out."

She knew that Christopher was hoping for a lot but she couldn't help but wish that it was really true. "God, I hope so." 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

"Hey," Jess said as he placed a hand on Rory's shoulder.

She turned to him, smiling. "Hi."

"I thought I'd find you here," he replied as he stared up at the bookshelf in Richard's library. "I'm surprised that you haven't picked something out to read already." 

She shrugged. "I didn't feel like reading much."

He nodded and pulled her into a hug. "I know. That's why I came here. I thought you might need a friend."

"Thanks."

The two of them walked over to the leather sofa in the middle of room, sitting side by side. He turned to her, not knowing how to say what he wanted to without turning the conversation awkward. The direct approach was the best, he figured. "I'm sorry for telling Tristan."

She feigned confusion even though she knew it was unnecessary. "Why would you have to be sorry?"

"C'mon Rory," he stated, a little annoyed. "We both know that something happened between the two of you that is getting you so upset."

"I am upset that my grandfather passed away, Jess."

"And he made it worse," he countered flatly. "I should have known that telling him was a mistake and that he'd only end up hurting you."

"Then why did you call him?" she asked straightforwardly. "If you knew, why did you ask him to come here?"

Jess ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I thought he'd be sensitive enough not to put in you in an awkward position at a time like this. I should have remembered that he's a selfish assho-"

"Stop it, Jess."

He looked at her surprised. "Why are you defending him?"

She shot off the couch, wringing her hands together. "I am not defending him." She wished everyone would leave the subject alone and let her handle her problems by herself. "I just don't want to discuss this now with you or with anyone. What happens or happened between us remains between us."

Jess leaned back against the leather and sighed. "Fair enough. We're all just looking out for you."

She laid a hand on his cheek and smiled gratefully. "Thank you. I appreciate it. But I need to deal with him my own way on my own time and I just can't do that right now." There was a flood of emotions running through her and she need to control them before she had an emotional breakdown that no one in her family needed to see. One that Tristan didn't need to see. 

There was a knock on the door right before it opened to reveal Tristan standing there, looking a little apprehensive. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I just need to speak with you, Rory."

The scowl on Jess' face turned into a conceding smile when Rory begged him to leave with her eyes. He walked over to her to give her a kiss on the cheek – for comfort and to show Tristan that he better not upset her. It made her smile. When Jess left, she turned to him expectantly. "Hey."

"Hey," he replied and closed the door behind him. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired." She was surprised her answer was so honest. "Is Janlan gone?"

"No, Grandfather is staying for lunch. Richard lawyer is going to come by at one o'clock so he wants to stay." He shoved his hands in his pockets, avoiding her gaze. "I'm going to leave."

"Oh," she replied slowly. "Are you going to stay at the mansion?"

"No. I'm going back to New York."

"I see." She folded her arms over her midriff. "So you just wanted to run that by me and leave like that, as usual."

"Damn it Rory," he growled in frustration as he stepped closer to her. "I'm doing this for you."

"Where have I heard that before?"

"Listen to me," he said, grabbing her arms not too tightly but hard enough so that she was aware how angry he was. "Your grandfather just passed away and I came here thinking that maybe I could offer you some comfort or support. Whatever the reason, I see that it's not helping you and it's definitely not good for my health to hang around here where people are plotting to murder me. So I'm going to go because I realize that that's what best for you now. Maybe I should have stayed away."

She lifted her eyes to his and willing herself not to tear up. "Okay."

He searched her face before letting her arms drop to her sides. "Okay. Good."

"So you came to say goodbye."

"Yes." 

She nodded her head, looked away for a minute before meeting his gaze again. "Goodbye."

He did let go that easily. Instead brought his hand around her nape, leaned forward and brushed his lips against her forehead and then, lowered his mouth to hers for a light kiss that had tears stinging the back of her eyes. "Bye."

When he turned away from her, she fought the impulse to reach out to him and ask him to stay. Instead, she curled her hands into fists and waited till he left to let the tears fall freely from her eyes. 


	9. Chapter 8: Leave Me Here To Burn

**Dedication: **To Roxy and Priya because I promised. To Chris for her inspiring WSC dialogue. And to Susan, who gets a cameo.

**Chapter 8: Leave Me Here To Burn**

Louise Grant waved delicately from her seat to Paris and Rory as they entered the restaurant. Her companion, Madeline Lynn leaned forward a bit, her eyes fixed on the two women who were weaving around the other tables and customers. The brunette looked a little nervous as she confided, "She looks okay."

"She's not," Louise answered shortly. She pushed her chair back and stood up when Rory stopped in front of the table and quickly embraced her friend. "Hello Rory. I am so sorry. As soon as I heard, I took the first plane out of Venice." 

Madeline stepped in between them. "Louise called me from Venice and I just got here this morning." 

"Thank you," Rory replied quietly. It was nice to have familiar faces around her; it had been awhile since she had seen Louise and Madeline. She was just sorry that the circumstance that brought them here was so depressing. 

The four women sat down and ordered lunch a few minutes later. They made small talk, the weather, and everyone's recent trips. Reluctantly they talked about work. Louise managed to make them laugh with one of her stories about inventory in her clothing shop. 

They touched briefly on the subject of Richard's funeral but Rory quickly diverted the conversation back to something she could talk about. "So Madeline, how are the rug rats?"

"They're terrible. They're wonderful. They tire me out," she replied with a huge grin. She loved teaching and she loved children. Rory still found it hard to believe that Madeline Lynn had decided to become a kindergarten teacher. "I love my job."

"You're one of the few people who can say that, too," Paris cracked wryly.

The meal was finished and they ordered coffees and dessert, lingering at the table.  

"I'm getting married," Louise announced just as easily as she slid her fork into the pie in front of her. 

Madeline sighed, Rory couldn't help but smile disbelievingly and Paris simply raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. "And this is husband number four, Louise?" she asked and took a sip of her coffee. 

"Oh, I thought it was five," Rory chimed in. "One every year since you turned twenty."

"Lorelai dear," Louise stated with a syrupy smile. "You're treading on thin ice. And if you _must_ know, Matthew is only husband number three. Marriage is so much fun. Paris, I am so glad that you've decided to do so yourself."

"I expect to stay married to Jess."

"That's what you think now."

Rory chuckled. "Louise, don't you even care about any of these men?"

"I care about their check books and of course, their looks…Jared and I didn't work because he brought too many feelings into the whole ordeal," she stated with a dismissive wave of her hand and then sighed dramatically. "I just had to break free."

"Yes. God forbid you actually love the man you marry."

"Love doesn't bring anything but pain," she stated with a shrug. "I am surprised that all of you still believe in a knight in shining armor. I lost all those ideals with my virginity."

"Because you were too drunk to remember any of them," Paris countered. __

Rory leaned back against her chair, contemplating Louise. She knew why Louise skipped from one man to another, changed boyfriends like she did clothes and married men who only mildly interested her. It was about control. About protecting her heart. About keeping everyone at arms length so that she couldn't get hurt. 

_Maybe you should learn from her_, a voice jeered her. _Letting him in again and again isn't getting you anywhere, is it? _

She shook her head and remembered her resolve to not think about Tristan.

Louise started to describe her new fiancé, Anthony, prompting Rory to think of her first. 

It was the classic story of heartbreak - Louise met Mark Channing in her second year of college. Mark was as smooth and charming as he was kind.  Everyone loved him, he was aspiring to become a lawyer and for once in her life, Louise was in love. Even though she knew they were young and he had a lot to accomplish before he would ever seriously consider it, she knew that they would get married one day. Rory hadn't doubted it, either. 

Mark was killed in a car accident a week after the two had gotten engaged.

It had broken Louise completely and she was quite understandably, never the same again. When she got engaged again to Alex Ridgemont, a year later, everyone thought that she had moved on and was in fact, mending her heart. But one night, at Paris' birthday party, Louise was a little drunk and she had confided something to Rory that had completely contradicted everyone's belief. 

_"I don't love Alex. In fact, I pretty much cannot stand him."               _

Rory had been so surprised; she had dismissed it as drunken ramblings. But then, the two had divorced in three months.

"Well," Madeline stated, snapping Rory back to the present. "I'm happy for you. I think."

Louise lifted her shoulder and let it drop. "It's okay. You don't have to be."

Rory smiled faintly. "It just looks like you're not. Happy that is." 

"Happiness is another silly ideal," she stated cynically and then gave Rory a pointed look. "Especially when it comes to love. You of all people should know that, Gilmore."

Huh. Rory swallowed hard. No matter how much those words hurt, she knew Louise was right. Paris cleared her throat and expertly changed the subject as Rory leaned back against her chair, avoiding eye contact with Louise again. 

So much for not thinking of Tristan.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

"Mr. DuGrey?"

Tristan blinked and stared at his secretary, dumbfounded. Was she still in his office? Was she still telling him something important? And if so, what was it? He shook his head and gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry, Alice. I'm not myself today."

She gave him a warm smile. "You've had a lot on your mind."

"I guess so."

She slipped a piece of paper over the desk. "I'll leave your schedule for tomorrow right here and you can look over it whenever. You had dinner plans with Mr. Hudson but he called to cancel."

He gave her a tired grin. "I heard that part. I wasn't in the mood, anyway. Why don't you take off, Alice?"

She looked puzzled. "But I have to fini- "

He waved it away. "Do it tomorrow. I'll be fine without you."

After a moment, she smiled gratefully. "My boyfriend wanted to go see a movie and I had to cancel. I think we can still make it."

"Have fun. Say hi to Charlie for me."

"G'night Mr. DuGrey." She turned and made it halfway across the office when she stopped and let out a 'oops'. She whirled around and rushed back, a secret smile on her face. "I almost forgot. Susan called."

"She did?" he asked, surprised. He hadn't heard from Susan since they had broken up. "Is everything okay? What did she want?" 

Alice cocked her head to the side; her blonde curls tumbling past her shoulder. "Well, she wasn't really calling to speak to you, sir. She said that she was missing a few items from her purse and wondered if she had left them in your office."

"Oh."

Alice's eyes brightened. "But they weren't here. If you ask me, I think it was just a ruse to check up on you. Maybe she hoped you were here when she called and that you would demand to speak to her."

Tristan shook his head, amused. "Or maybe she really did think she left her stuff here."

"I'm a woman, Mr. DuGrey. I know these things. The tone of her voice said it all. She really wanted to talk to you. The two of you made such a cute couple. Whatever's wrong I am sure you can fix it," she stated excitedly and then looked away, shamefaced when he looked at her oddly. "I'm sorry, sir. I overstepped my bounds, didn't I?"

"It's okay," he replied, a little uneasy. "G'night Alice." 

When she left, he leaned back against his leather swivel chair and ran a hand over his face. Susan Richards had been in his life for the past five months and had easily become his most trusted confidant. They had met in a restaurant one night; he was there after dinner with a client and she was enjoying a martini at the bar after one of her friends had cancelled on her last minute. She was beautiful with her russet hair, almost translucent blue eyes and friendly smile as she chatted amiably with the bartender. He sat down next to her and bought her another drink, which she accepted after her initial wariness wore off.

Two days later, they were on a date.

But he had still been reeling from the yet another fight with Rory; probably the most important, most damaging one. Susan sensed that something was off and over coffee at her place, he had told her everything about his dysfunction relationship with Rory Gilmore. 

He had started to think that admitting it to someone, talking about it with her would give him some kind of peace, some kind of closure. He was really beginning to believe that he was getting over Rory and that he and Susan could have a serious, long lasting relationship. 

But she had proven him wrong.

He dropped his keys on the table and loosened his tie. In the dimness, he didn't notice that she was sitting on the couch, a small duffel bag by her feet. He smiled a little, although her brows drew together. "Hey."

_"Hi," she said softly as he sat down beside her. "Your doorman let me in."_

_He kissed her cheek. "Good." She pulled away, smiling tightly. "What's wrong?"_

_"We need to talk."_

_He ran a hand through his hair. "It sounds serious."_

_"It is, in a way." She took a deep breath and then looked like she was coaching herself to say the words she wanted to without chickening out. "We have to break up."  _

He tried to ignore the feeling of abandonment that seemed to settle over his heart. His voice came out strange, even to his own ears. " We have to? And why's that?"

_She shook her head fiercely. "Don't do that."_

_"Be so calm about it."_

_"You are."_

_"I am not!" she retorted and her eyes welled with tears. "I am not calm about it. I'm acting calm about it but I'm not and you should know that! For crying out loud, Tristan, you should know me!" _

But he didn't, according to her. He didn't take them time to get to know her. She knew more than she bargained for, more than she really wanted to know about him and his relationship with Rory and he didn't even know her favorite flower. Or the name of the perfume she wore. Or her lucky number. 

After they fought, she sat down beside him on the sofa again, wearily. "It's not your fault, really. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. Not when it comes to us. But it is kind of your fault when it comes to her."

_His head whipped up so fast, he was sure something might have cracked. "What are you talking about?"_

_"Rory," she answered gravely. "You're not over her. I don't think you can be."_

_He fought that notion with everything inside him. He so desperately wanted to believe that he was. "But I am. I'm doing so much better." _

_She smiled faintly, "You sound like you're a recovering alcoholic, Tristan."_

_"This isn't funny."_

_"Believe me," she stated with a violent shake of her head. "I know it's not. I don't find pleasure in the fact that I am involved with a man that is hung up on someone else."_

_"Susan - "_

_"My eyes are a shade lighter than hers," she stated sadly, cutting him off. "And my hair is a sandy brown instead of chocolate. If I were insecure, I'd say that I wasn't enough to meet whatever expectations you had. But this isn't about my shortcomings. I won't be the reason you don't have what you want and I won't be the woman you 'settle' for, Tristan. It won't be fair to either of us."_

_He knew she was right. Of course she was. He wasn't in love with her.  "I care about you, Susan. You've become my best friend."_

_"I wish all I wanted from you was friendship." She placed a hand on his cheek. "I will give you a piece of advice, though."_

_He grinned. "I knew that was coming."_

_"Go see her. Resolve any issues. Voice any feelings. You might think that you're moving on, Tristan, but you're not. Your past with her still rules your present; threatens your future."_

_"Easier said than done."_

_"Don't call me for at least a month. I would tell you not to call at all but I know you too well." She kissed him lightly on the lips, stood up before he could say anything else and walked out the door._

Well, resolving things with Rory had not gone as well as either of them hoped. He stared at the phone on his desk, wondering if he would be forgiven for calling in three weeks instead of four. He hand rested on the receiver as he debated with his conscience. Then he picked it up and dialed the number. 

When had he ever listened to the voice of reason?


	10. Chapter 9: At A Distance

Chapter 9: At A Distance 

Tristan wasn't nervous. At least, that's what he told himself. But sitting there at the table in the small café where they went to have coffee after their first date, waiting for Susan to show up for the past ten minutes, he couldn't help but think that he was going to get stood up. Especially because he hadn't seen her in weeks and she had asked him not to call. 

He fixed his gaze to the entrance and a minute later, she walked through it. He let out a sigh of relief and stood up quickly to greet her, bumping his knee against the edge of the table. Okay, so maybe he was a little on edge. 

Susan brushed a strand of hair away from her face and smiled at him as she approached. It was one of those smiles that left him guessing as to what she was thinking. In his experience, those smiles weren't always good. 

"You came."

She shrugged off her jacket and he helped her out of it before pulling out the chair for her. She looked over her shoulder and pulled her hair back. "You asked me to."

He sat down across from her and gave her a wry smile. "I didn't expect you to, I guess."

"You thought I'd crumble or something, didn't you?" Her tone was slightly derisive as she folded her arms on the table. 

He shook his head, cursing himself for putting his foot in his mouth. The only other person besides Susan who had the ability to make him act like a complete ass was Rory Gilmore but he wasn't going to go down that road. "That sounds patronizing of me."

"That's because it is."

"I didn't mean to be." 

The waitress came and took their order and once she was gone, Susan leaned back in her chair and nodded. "How've you been?"

"Fine," he replied automatically and when she arched an eyebrow, he let out a conceding laugh. "Okay, a little less than fine. How are you?"

Susan shrugged, smiled a little wider this time without that hint of ambiguity in it. "I've had a terrific week. Career-wise at least. It was one of those weeks that reminded me why I love being a doctor."

It was rare to see her smiling about her work. Or maybe it wasn't that rare and he had been so caught up in his own life when they were together, he just didn't see it. "I'd like to hear about it."

"You didn't call me to talk to about work, Tristan."

"That's not true," he protested quickly. "I called because I wanted to see you."

"And I asked you not to call for at least a month," she answered. She shook her head and folded her hands together in front of her. "Look, it wouldn't have made a difference if you called in a week, either. I just want to know where we stand."

"How am I supposed to know that, Susan?" he asked, frustrated. "I'm not the one that ended our relationship."

She frowned. "I was only doing what you were so scared to do."

Tristan clenched his fingers together too keep himself from getting angry. He was the one that wanted to talk to her; he wouldn't cause a scene in a public place. He took a few calming breaths and then met her eyes. "I want to be friends." 

"Trist -" 

He held up his hand to silence her. "I know you think I can't be your friend or that I'm incapable of having a platonic relationship with a woman but I can. I've had many friends who are girls." She raised a speculative eyebrow and her lips curved into a disbelieving smile that was contagious. "Okay, so at some point they were my girlfriends or I had a more intimate relationship with them but that's different."

She chuckled. "I'm sure it is."

He reached across the table for her hand. "I miss talking to you, Susan."

Her eyes connected with his and she smiled, genuinely. "I missed you, too."

Their coffees came and she reached for the creamer at the center of the table as he reached for the sugar. "Friends?"

"We can try." Her spoon clanked against the cup as she stirred and looked at him thoughtfully. "Tell me something, though. Have you seen her? Talked to her? Slept with her?"

The last question made him spill some sugar onto the table. He let out another laugh. "I forgot how good you are with those non sequiturs."

"It's not a non sequitur, Tristan. Answer the questions."

He sighed and picked up the creamer. "All of the above."

"I'm glad you took my advice."

He shook his head; met her gaze. "Her grandfather passed away."

Susan nodded, took a sip of her coffee and then cleared her throat. "What happened?"

"Heart attack. She was devastated," he answered and leaned back in his chair. Suddenly, he didn't feel like having coffee. "Jess called me and asked me to go and I went."

"That's understandable." Her tone was soothing – she must have heard the self-loathing in his tone. "You wanted to be there for her. You needed to be."

"I should have stayed away. Respected her enough to let her grieve instead of drudging up old memories and falling back into our cycle." Why was he so good at seeing everything so clearer when he wasn't near Rory? He guessed that what they said about hindsight was right on the mark. 

"How did she handle it when you did leave?"

He shrugged and picked at the tablecloth, not looking at Susan. "Like she always does. Indifferent. Angry. Not what I want, expect."

"So what do you want?"

"I want her to give me a reason to stay." 

They let that sentence hang in the air between them. He stirred his the coffee he didn't plan on drinking and she stared out the window, cup in her hand – both lost in their own thoughts.

"That's never going to happen, you know," she said grimly, making his head snap up. She met his eyes and shrugged. "It wouldn't fit into the whole brooding, troubled, bitter routine of yours."

He saw the hint of a smile on her face and frowned. "I'm not bitter." 

"Please," she said and put her cup down to make a dramatic gesture with her hand. "The first thing I realized about you after we talked a bit that you were bitter, right on the surface. It's what made you so interesting. When I cracked through that a little I realized that you're unattainable. That's what made you sexy."

He grinned. "Why thank you."

"I'm not done," she replied, giving him a withering glare. "Once a woman realizes that you're unattainable she understands that it's because you're bitter. It's a vicious cycle."

He ran a hand through his hair and laughed self-deprecatingly. "Yeah, well I'd like to break it sometime soon."

Susan wagged a finger at him. "Well, you're going to have to fix the root of the problem. And I think we both know what that is."

Before he could say anything else, the song that was playing softly in the background caught his attention and he closed his eyes to listen to it, remembering the last time he had heard it.

It's not the pale moon that excites me  
that thrills and delights me,   
oh no,

_It's just the nearness of you._

He drew in a sharp breath. Oh, it had been awhile.

~*~

Why do I just wither and forget all resistance  
when you and your magic pass by  
my heart's in a dither dear  
when you're at a distance  
but when you are near, oh my...

It was funny how much that song could still affect her. It had been years since she had heard it and she was pretty sure she had put away her Norah Jones CD for the same reason. It brought back too many painful memories.

"Okay, I admit it," Tristan said as they drove through the quaint and scenic town of Lake George on their way to dinner at an Italian restaurant in a neighboring town. Rory had insisted that they listen to Norah Jones on the way up to bring out his more 'feminine side'. "She's got a great voice."

She smiled giddily and clapped lightly. "I knew you'd see it my way."

He laughed. "Just don't let it go to your head. The sentiment behind it is kind of nice." He looked at her briefly before returning his gaze to the road. "I mean, I can get behind it."

She reached over the seat and twined her hands with his. "So can I." 

Rory gripped the steering wheel with one hand and turned off the radio with the other. She was driving towards Stars Hollow to forget about the past few days. To escape her problems by reuniting with the quirky town people, by partaking in some silly town festival.

Innocence was comforting. 

Lorelai wouldn't be there; she was taking care of Emily who seemed to have stopped communicating with anyone in the household. Rory couldn't bear seeing her grandmother hurting, mourning and completely shut off. 

She took the exit into Stars Hollow a few minutes later.

The town was still the same – give or take a few adjustments and repairs. The gazebo stood in the center, dimly lit by lamps. Doose's, Patty's Dance Studio, Luke's were all still standing, still in business. She passed her old high school and then stopped right in front of the Kim's Antiques. She smiled a little as she turned off the ignition, thinking of Lane's mother for a brief moment. She did not want to have to face her tonight so she pulled out her cell phone. 

"Hello?"

"Lane, hi."

"Rory! Sweetie, where are you?"

"Outside."

She could imagine Lane's brows drawing together. "Outside where?"

"I'm staring at the sign in your lawn. It still hasn't changed."

"It never will," her friends replied, laughing. "I'll be out in a sec." 

Twenty minutes later, the two friends were walking through their old neighborhood, reliving their youth, remembering their past and talking about how comforting and constant this town was to the both of them. Sometimes, in Boston, Rory missed talking to Lane so much. She had almost forgotten how well they related to each other.

"I never thought I'd say this but I miss this town." Rory lifted her brow, surprised. The stopped in front of the gazebo and sat down on the bench. "I know! It doesn't make sense."

Rory hooked her arm with Lane's. "Actually it makes more sense than you know."

Lane pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "How are you, Rory? I mean, really." 

"Not so good," she answered, knowing she wouldn't be able to hide the truth from Lane. "I miss Grandpa so much. I needed to get out of that house." 

Her friends slipped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her tight. "At the risk of sounding trite or redundant, it gets better." 

Rory let out a hollow laugh. "I just don't see how. I don't think Grandma does either. It's like a part of her died with him and now I feel like I lost both of my grandparents and I want to shout that it's not fair but -"

"You don't know who'll listen?" Lane finished for her and she nodded. They sat in silence and then Lane leaned back and sighed. "I'll bet Tristan is making it worse."

"He left."

It was her turn to be shocked. "I don't know why I am surprised." 

"I don't want to talk about him right now." Rory rubbed her hands together, realizing that she was a little cold. "I think we need a coffee fix."

"I'll go get some. You sit; you look tired." 

"Thank you, Lane."

"Anytime," she replied with a smile. "You know that."

She realized that it wasn't a good idea to be stuck with your thoughts right after a discussion that left you particularly angst-filled. After a few minutes of being alone though, she started to sing - unconsciously. "_It isn't your sweet conversation, that brings this sensation. Oh no, it's just the nearness of you_."

"That's a great song. Classic." The voice was deep and very familiar. She looked up startled and met those blue eyes. Recognition dawned. His face was more beautiful than she remembered but then it had been awhile. Surprise had her lips parting and he smiled widely. Suddenly, she was sixteen again. "Hello Rory."

She stood up, blue on brown. "Dean." 


	11. Chapter 10: Family

**Author's Note**: _Thanks to everyone who left feedback for the last chapter! Means so much. Also, I changed the whole Dean having blue eyes thing to him having brown. Just goes to show I don't pay enough attention to Jared's eyes. Oh well._

**Chapter 10: Family**

She was still shocked to see Dean Forester in Stars Hollow after all this time, even when she stood up and wrapped her arms around him. He was laughing as she grappled him to her, as if holding on for dear life. "Rory, I think I can't breathe."

"I'm so sorry!" Flustered, she pulled away and beamed at him. "Wow, Dean! Were you always this tall? I don't remember you being _this_ tall!"

He laughed again, his eyes crinkling and she remembered how it used to make her weak in the knees. Oh it had been so long ago. "Same old Rory Gilmore, I see. Why am I not surprised?"

She blushed a little, looked down at her feet. If he only knew how much she had changed. She fixed a bright smile on her face when she looked back up at him. "How long has it been, Dean?"

He shrugged, looking over her shoulder, across the street at Luke's. "I think it was at your mother's wedding."

She marveled at how time took away people who once seemed so important. It still hurt to let go. _Maybe I haven't changed all that much_, she thought wryly. Shaking her head to rid herself of serious and depressing thoughts, she smiled again. Her cheeks were starting to hurt. "How've you been?" 

He pocketed his hands, deeply in his leather jacket. "Good. Busy. Happy."

She could see it in his eyes; could almost feel it standing next to him. "I wonder if happiness is contagious," she wondered out loud before she realized it.

His hand fingers wrapped around her elbow and he looked at her, gravely. "I heard about your grandfather. I'm so sorry, Rory."

She knew he meant it and that he was saying what he felt was customary to say but she was getting sick and tired of hearing it. It didn't help; it only reminded her of him. She had come to Stars Hollow to forget. "Thank you." 

Before either of them could say anything else, Lane showed up, two cups of coffee in hand. She looked at Dean, smiled, but didn't look surprised to see him. Rory figured that they had probably already met. "Dean-o."

He smiled widely as Rory giggled at the old nickname. "Lane, hello again." 

Rory felt like they had traveled back in time, when she was with Dean and the three of them would hand around Luke's or the gazebo or at her house. Days spent mocking movies, recommending books or CDs – being relatively carefree. Obsessing about the past so much is so unhealthy, she thought to herself as the three of them walked towards the center of town. 

"So what have you been up to, Dean?"

"The usually," he shrugged. "Work, family, kids – well one, actually. It gets hectic."

Family? Dean was married and had children? When in the world had that happened and why hadn't Lorelai mentioned it to her? Lane threw her an apologetic smile, the one that said 'sorry I didn't fill you in'. She recovered from the shock quickly enough and managed a smile she hoped didn't look foolish. "Wow. This is very belated but congratulations." 

He gave her a sheepish smile. "Lindsay and I were married the summer you were off in Europe."

Lindsay. She had forgotten all about the blonde. "Wow. I feel stupid for saying it over and over again…" she trailed off and smiled again, this time looking right at him to show him that she was genuinely happy. "I always knew you'd live that picture perfect life."

"You should see their kid, Rory. Lila's adorable. She's got Dean's eyes, her mother's smile and blonde curly hair…oh my God, Ro," Lane's excited spiel trailed off as her eyes widened in horror. "I didn't- "

Ignoring the pain that had settled on her heart, Rory cut her off, quickly. "It's okay."

Dean stopped walking and looked between the two women, confused. "Is something wrong."

Lane looked too mortified to answer so Rory smiled at Dean with fake cheerfulness. "Of course not, you do remember how she gets carried away with things. Although, I'm sure Lila is beautiful."

"Thank you," he answered after a pause and then went into a detailed description about how freaked he was when Lindsay went through labor.

_So much for forgetting_, she thought as she remembered everything she had lost. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"Father," Tristan said stiffly into the phone. "How may I help you?"

"Do you take that apathetic tone when you answer all of your phone calls, son?" William asked, his voice sounding strange as well.

"I've learned indifference from the best."

William sighed. "I didn't call you to argue or fight, Tristan."

"Well that's a first," he replied and tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could sign the documents Alice had left for him on his desk. "So, pray tell, why did you call?" 

"I need your help."

Tristan didn't let the surprise he felt seep into his voice. "On what?"

"I'd rather we didn't discuss it on the phone." William waited a minute for continuing. "I need you to come back to Hartford."

"I just left Hartford," Tristan replied curtly. 

"I know that, son. You left before I could even get a chance to talk to you." That was the idea, of course. He could hear the impatience in his father's voice. "If you had stuck around and not done things in a that reckless manner you always conduct yourself with- "

Tristan bit his bottom lip to keep from yelling. "I know where this lecture is going to go, Father. Can we just cut to the chase, here?"

"Listen, I know you and Lorelai need to put space between yourselves. She's grieving her grandfather's loss and I find it very commendable that you left this time, son." It had been a long time since William had praised or approved of anything he'd done. It made him uncomfortable. "But I wouldn't ask you to come back unless it was important."

Tristan leaned back in his leather chair. "If you're going to use the guilt trip on me, at least tell me what it's about."

"It's business and I need your legal help."

"It sounds serious."

"It is."

"Then why the hell are you asking me to help?"

"Because you're family."

Tristan scoffed. "Since when did that matter?"

"Tristan, I want you to come home. It's not an order, it's a request."

That threw him off a little but he finally replied. "Let me think about it."

"I've instructed Jonathan to have the jet ready. You should be back here by tonight. If you decide to come." 

His father hung about without another word and Tristan stared at the receiver in his hand. William sounded serious and it was a twisted sense of familial loyalty that had Tristan worried about the state of the family business – something that he had given up to pursue a different career, to escape his father. But, he didn't know if he had the willpower to return to Hartford, knowing Rory would be there and not go to see her.  He did know that he didn't have the strength to see her face her again.

_Because you're family_.

It was a risk he was going to have to take. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

"Mom, what are you doing?" Lorelai asked as she watched her mother inspect the silverware the maid had left on the table. 

Supervising," Emily returned shortly. She turned around and called for the maid. "Julia, would you look at this. These spoons are filthy."

Lorelai scrambled around the table to get into her mother's line of vision. "Mom, why are you going through with this inspection? I thought we were supposed to have dinner in Stars Hollow, tonight. With Rory."

Emily looked at her daughter briefly. "Rory called and said she's coming home. It's Friday night, Lorelai. We have dinner here on Friday nights ever since Rory was sixteen. She's hardly ever in town anymore. No need to let this opportunity pass."

"But Mom," she replied a little shocked. "You still want to have Friday night dinn- "

This time, her mother's gaze hardened. "It's tradition, Lorelai."

"I know but -"

"Julia!" Emily hollered, disappearing into kitchen, without waiting for Lorelai to finish.

"Oh boy," she said and expelled a breath. Emily had gone from being withdrawn and lost to her normal, controlling self in one day and Lorelai was beginning to worry about the state of her mother's mind. Her father's death seemed to have taken the life out of her mother's eyes. And it killed her. 

"Grandma? Mom?" Rory called out.

"In here, babe."

Her daughter appeared in the archway, taking off her coat. Rory glanced at the table, saw the fine china and raised an eyebrow, surprised. "What's going on?"

"Friday night dinners."

Rory's eyes went wide. "But Grandpa…"

Lorelai sighed and sat down at the table. "We're going to have to do this for Grandma." Rory nodded mutely and hung her coat on the back of one of the chair. "So, what happened to the whole having dinner in Stars Hollow thing?"

"I changed my mind."

"I thought you said it was going to be nice to go back and visit," Lorelai stated, furrowing her eyebrows together. "What was the word you used? Cleansing."

"Yeah, but not so much when you run into your ex-boyfriend who happens to be married with a kid," she explained and sat down across from her mother. "Then it pretty much reminds you of what you don't have."

"Oh honey! I completely forgot that Dean was in town."

"It's okay. Although, I would have liked to known he was married. Fortunately, I didn't stick my foot in my mouth. In fact, I'm having dinner with the three of them tomorrow or sometime."

Emily walked back into the room and smiled at her granddaughter. "Rory, you're home. I guess we can tell Julia to start serving then." 

She disappeared again and Rory turned to her mother, wide eyed. "Is something wrong?"

Lorelai shrugged. Rory has always been so perceptive when it came to her grandparents. "I don't know, sweetie. Ever since morning, Mom's been acting like nothing has changed. She's even planning on going to the DAR brunch tomorrow afternoon."

Rory leaned back against the chair. "Is it at the country club?"

"Where else?"

"I'm going."

This time it was Lorelai's turn to be shocked. "Why?"

Rory played with the napkin on her lap before answering her. "Because, I'm family."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"Rory!" Georgia Hayden squealed as she ran into the Gilmore mansion. Rory smiled and opened her arms for her sister to jump into the twirled the auburn-haired pixie around. "I missed you so much!"

"Oh, I missed you too, George." Rory placed her sister back onto the floor and turned to her ex-stepmother who was standing in the doorway with Christopher. "Hey Sherri. Hey Dad."

Sherri enveloped her in a hug. "Oh Rory, I am so sorry. We came rushing back as soon as we heard the news. Gigi didn't want to stay in Europe another day without her big sister."

Rory crouched down to her sister's height as Sherri and Christopher went to greet Lorelai in the living room. "I'm sorry you had to cut your trip short."

"It was kind of boring, anyway," Georgia complained and then rolled her eyes. "I hated the tours. Mommy kept insisting that we take them because they were scheduled. She's driving me crazy, Ror!"

"Well, it's not just your Mom," she confided conspiratorially. "It's their jobs, you know."

Georgia's caramel eyes became serious, her expression sobered. "I'm sorry about Uncle Richard."

Rory felt tears sting but she managed to keep them at bay as she hugged her sister. "He asked about you the other day. He wanted to give you a present. I'm sure Grandma has it somewhere." 

As the two sisters headed for the living room, Georgia jumped up and down, excited. "I have so much to tell you about Europe! I don't know where to start!"

"Well, it looks like I'm going to be here for awhile. So we have a lot of time to catch up," Rory said and ruffled Georgia's hair. "In fact, let's ask your Mom if you can spend the night with me."

"That sounds so cool." 


	12. Chapter 11: Surrender

Chapter 11: Surrender

_"Do you love him?" he asked, pocketed his hands in his trousers and leaned back against the door of her bedroom in Boston. She turned away from him and continued to pack her bag for her trip to Stars Hollow. "Rory?"_

_"I don't know how I feel, Tristan." _

_"What else is new?" he scoffed and moved into the room, coming to stand beside her. _

_They were standing near her bed; her duffel bag beside her bed was wide open. She looked up at him but didn't turn to him fully, very much aware of the affect he was having on her pulse. He did this often, invaded her personal space because he knew that it made her nervous, it made her vulnerable…made her hot.  _

_"Tristan, please don't do this."_

_He touched her shoulder, silently urging her to turn completely towards him. Unable to stop herself, she did and made her first mistake. He pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I know you don't." _

"How can you -" 

_"Because," he cut her off and kissed the side of her face, "he doesn't make you feel the way I make you feel." He brought his lips to hers and applied the barest amount of pressure. "He doesn't make you want him." _

_She shuddered involuntarily; knowing he was right. She had been holding back on the urge to kiss him all night. "Tristan, please."_

_"Please what?" he asked, kissing her once more. His hands traveled down her back and rested on her rear, molding him to her. "Stop kissing you?" _

_She closed her eyes and surrendered to this kiss. "No, don't stop." _

_"I won't." He smiled against her lips and gently pushed her back onto the bed. Without thinking, she lay back against the mattress and pulled him down on her. He kissed her again and then drew back, looking at her seriously. "You don't love him."_

_She shook her head, heady with desire. "I never did." _

It had been so damn easy for him to seduce her, to get her into bed with him again. She had promised herself time and again she wouldn't be tempted, wouldn't yield to his kisses, and would spurn his advances. But he had power over her, held her in some kind of spell that made her break her oath and follow him willingly to the nearest bed. Hell, it wasn't even always a bed. Anywhere that was comfortable would do.

Oh but the sex was fantastic. She was addicted to it. Whether they were caught up in the heat of the moment, or when things were good and they were having a romantic night out or even if it was just a form of release for either of them, the sex was amazing. 

Why was she thinking about sex with Tristan DuGrey? 

Because she was sitting, bored out of her mind, at a table with the DAR members and her grandmother as they discussed inane topics and swapped useless gossip. Emily looked just as uninterested as she felt. She merely smiled and made the appropriate comments when a question or opinion was directed at her. Rory suspected her grandmother wasn't always this quiet at meetings. 

"Hey Grandma? Would you like to take a walk?"

Emily looked like she had just been let out of a cage. "That would be lovely, dear. Excuse me ladies. Me and my granddaughter have lots of catching up to do."

The other ladies exchanged glances and gave Emily that sympathetic look that was almost as patronizing as the way one woman said, "Of course, Emily. You go take a walk and clear your head."

As soon as both Gilmore exited the confines of the dining room and stepped on to the lush grass of the extensive Country Club garden, they both let out a sigh of relief. Rory grinned at her grandmother. "I was just about ready to scream."

Emily let out an uncharacteristic chuckle. "I cannot believe that I never noticed how tiresome Elsie's speeches can be. Or how irritating Marie is when she _just has_ to tell us about what her grandson did during his school play. As if she ever spends enough time with the boy."

"I know!"

They both laughed heartily and then stopped, looking at each other with big smiles. Emily hooked her arm with Rory's and led her down the makeshift dirt path. "You know, Richard loved it here."

Rory smiled as she clasped her hand over her grandmother's. "Yes, he did. I remember the first time he brought me here. It was that day you insisted he teach me to golf because I needed a sport for Chilton."

Emily laughed. "Oh yes. He was so reluctant to take you but when he came home he couldn't stop talking about how much fun he had, how great you were…I think he saw part of him in you for the very fist time." 

Tears stung the back of her eyes but she managed to keep them at bay. "I still have that Tiger Woods hat you gave me. Tristan makes me wear it sometimes when he's feeling silly." 

The words had just tumbled out of her mouth and she flinched a little when she heard the wistfulness is her own voice. She hoped that Emily would ignore the comment and let it slide but one from the look on her grandmother's face, Rory knew she had realized it too. If it had been anyone else, they wouldn't have pried. But not Emily Gilmore. She was too much like Lorelai in that respect. 

Rory steeled her nerves to answer her the inevitable question that came in the form of: "Tristan's leaving…was that you're decision or his?" 

"Entirely his." She rubbed her hands together, trying not to get worked up. She had promised and convinced herself she wouldn't think about, talk about or discuss Tristan. Evidently, it was not working. "I'd rather we not discuss this, Grandma." 

"You brought up his name, dear." 

"I know," she answered through gritted teeth. "But he left for the very reason I don't want to discuss him."

"And what's the reason?" 

"Because he didn't want me to stress out about him when I had other things to focus on." It wasn't until she had said it out loud that she had finally realized his intention for leaving. She had tried to make it about his lack of responsibility and the fact that he always left when things got rough but the truth was he was doing it for her, he was always doing it for her. 

Emily stopped walking and turned Rory towards her. "If anything, Lorelai Leigh, leaving was not the right thing to do."

"How can you say that?"

"I can say that because I just lost my husband," Emily returned softly, her eyes darkened with anger and sadness. "I just lost the only man I ever loved, Rory. That is not something you take for granted, child."

"Grandma- " she stated weakly.

"There is no excuse. Happiness is not a right."

Rory sighed shakily, her eyes watering. "Grandma, it's harder for me and Tristan."

"Things are only as hard as you make them to be," Emily said, softer this time. After a pause, she sighed. "You're so much like your mother."

Rory wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and let out a chuckle as they continued to walk through the gardens. "I was just thinking that about you." 

"I suppose there are worse things to be."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~  

_"Hello Rory," Tristan greeted her coolly as she opened the door of her dorm room. It had been three days since they had slept together for the first time. He had been debating on whether or not to confront her about what had happened – the morning after hadn't followed the way he had imagined. He hated that he felt the need to rectify it._

_Her lower lip quivered a bit and she stuttered, "H-hi." _

_He waited for her to invite him in and when she didn't he merely raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to ask me to come in or are we supposed to talk out here, in the hallway?"_

_She tucked her hair behind her ear and stepped away from the door. "Come in."_

_Once inside, he turned to her and smiled, as if they were close friends. "How have you been?"_

_She looked taken aback but nodded slowly. "Good. You?"_

_"Been better. I mean, it's not everyday I have to seek out a lover," - Rory visibly flinched when he called her that -" who has been avoiding me for the last three days, and have awkward conversations with her. But there's a first time for everything, right?" _

_"Tristan, why are you here?"_

_He sat down on her bed and picked up Colonel Clucker. "I thought it was obvious."_

_She folded her arms across her chest. "Obviously not." _

_He tossed the stuffed animal aside and stood up, ready to drop the cool façade. "Okay then, I'll spell it out for you. Are you just going to pretend that we never had sex?" Her arms feel limply to her side and she looked away, uncomfortable. If he hadn't been so angry or hurt he would have laughed at how absurd it was that she was so obviously trying to forget about it. "God, Rory, you have got to be kidding me."_

_"I am very well aware of what happened." _

_His arms swept around the room in a dramatic gesture. "So that's it? You're going to leave it at that?"_

_"I have to leave it at that, Tristan,"_

_"And why is that?"_

_She lifted her arms in the air in a hopeless gesture and opened her mouth to say something but after a beat, her hands dropped and her mouth closed. He wanted to say something but didn't know what and so they stood in silence. Then, she opened her mouth again and said, "I made a list." _

_He expelled a frustrated breath. "What?"_

_Color rose to her cheeks and she turned around, picked up a piece of paper from her desk and handed it to him, looking sheepish. "It's a compulsion."_

_He looked at her disbelievingly and then read the heading. 'Tristan: the pros and cons'. There was a line dividing the two columns and in her neat handwriting, she had scribbled a few reasons under the column that said 'cons'. The 'pros' were left blank. "You made a list." The words came out slow and deliberate. _

_"Yes."_

_He cleared his throat and read, "Cons. Number 1, I just broke up with Jess." He looked up at her; started to grin. "If anything, that only strengths my argument. You're single." _

_She wrung her hands. "Read the rest."_

_"Number 2, he goes to school in New Haven." He raised an eyebrow. "That is about to change. Number 3, we really don't like each other." This made him chuckle and then smirk at her. "We seemed to like each other just fine in bed."_

_"Tristan…"_

_He folded the list and took a step forward, cutting off whatever she was going to say. "Rory, this is stupid." He grabbed her gently by her upper arms and pulled her closer, easily sliding his arms around her waist when she didn't object. "We had a great time. You can't deny it."_

_Unwillingly, her lips curved. "We had fun."_

_"In and out of bed." _

_Her cheeks reddened and she brought her hands to his chest and pushed away. "I won't argue with you, Tristan. I had a lot of fun. More fun than I expected to have."_

_She baffled him. "Then what's the problem?"_

_"I just have too much on my plate." She pulled away from him completely and then lifted her shoulder in a shrug. He saw the determined set of her jaw and when he met her eyes, he could see that her mind was made up. "All I can offer is friendship."_

_There was that ugly word again. Friendship. He had tried to be her friend when he was sixteen. Three years later, he wasn't that deluded to believe that he could accept that now. They weren't cut out to be friends without being lovers. But he was going to have to make her see that. "Fine."_

_She looked a little taken aback and it pleased him. "Fine?"_

_"Yeah," he replied and tugged at her hair playfully to show her he was just fine with the arrangement. "We'll be friends."_

Now, all these years later, the amusement came back. Rory had been so determined to keep him at arms length; she had believed whole-heartedly that nothing would happen between them if they both kept up 'friendly' appearances. 

A week later, when they were at his apartment unpacking his belongings, things shifted back to the way he wanted. She had turned to put something away in his closet at the exact time he was exiting and they bumped into each other. He grabbed her hips to keep her from toppling back and she clutched his shirt to hold on. 

A beat.

Awkward silence.

She glanced at his lips, wetted hers. 

And then, unexpectedly, she closed the distance between their mouths and kissed him senseless. 

A smile touched his lips as he leaned back on the plush couch of the DuGrey jet on its way to Hartford.  She had caved, in only a week. He had tried not to be smug about it, tried not to rub it in but he failed.

"I can't believe you seduced me," she said as they lay in bed together, hours later. Her head rested on his chest, her hair splayed out, tickling his skin.

_"Excuse me, you're the one that started kissing me," he reminded her, his hands stroking her bare back softly._

_She lifted her head off his chest and opened her mouth to say something but then closed it again when she realized he was right. Her eyes narrowed and her lips turned into an enticing pout. "I hate you."_

_Before she knew what happened, Tristan flipped them over so that he was on top and her arms were twined around his neck. Her eyes widened in surprise and a soft gasp escaped her lips as he slipped into her. She arched into him; let out a reluctant moan. He leaned down to touch his mouth to hers and murmur, "No, you don't."_


	13. Chapter 12: Better Left Unsaid

Chapter 12: Better Left Unsaid 

"Dad's met someone," Georgia stated and Rory immediately stopped pushing her on the swing and grabbed the chain. Her sister looked over her shoulder; solemn caramel eyes meeting wide blue ones. "Her name's Gwen and she's an artist."

"You're kidding!" Rory said half-amused and half-surprised that Christopher hadn't mentioned it to her yet. She sat down on the swing next to Georgia's and started to chuckle. "Oh wow. What's she like?"

"She has long red hair and green eyes. Dad says she's a free spirit." Georgia scrunched her nose. "What's a free spirit?"

Rory lifted her shoulders and let them fall again before glancing across the park at her mother and half-brother, Jacob, playing in the sandbox. "You got me. So, do you like her?"

"I don't want to," the eight year old confided as she reached up to pull her ponytail tighter and then adjusted her baseball cap. "Is it bad that I do?"

Rory's eyes flew to her sister's face again and she shook her head slowly. "It's not bad that you like her, George. It doesn't even mean you love your mother any less."

"Did you like my mother when you first met her?" When Rory furrowed her brow, thinking of a way to answer than question as delicately at possible, her sister gave her a knowing look. "You didn't, did you?"

"No," she replied quickly. "I didn't dislike her, either. You have to understand, sweetie, it was a very awkward situation when I met her. You just be glad that you never had to go through the Lorelai-Christopher-Sherry debacle."

"I'm the debacle," she replied and reminded Rory of how clever she really was, even at eight. "What's a debacle?"

"Georgia, you're not a debacle. Don't ever think that," she said sternly and had a quick flashback of her grandmother saying the something similar to her, all those years ago. "You made Dad and Sherry very happy."

Georgia considered that statement for a minute before she nodded. "Do you think Dad will marry her?" 

Rory let out small hoot of laughter before she could stop herself. "If he does, I wonder if he plans on having any more kids. I don't think I'll be able to keep up with any more half-siblings."

Her sister giggled along with her. "It would be funny. Lorelai wouldn't ever let Dad forget it."

After their laughter subsided, Georgia's expression went back to contemplative and Rory watched in amusement as she waited for her sister to voice her thoughts. No one could tell the two were sisters, as they both looked like their own mothers. Georgia's ash-blonde hair and caramel eyes were a contrast to Rory's chocolate hair and deep blue eyes. Meanwhile, Georgia's personality was all Christopher. Sherry's worst nightmare had come true – Georgia was the typical tomboy. 

"What's going on in there?" Rory asked her sister as she tapped the bill of her sister's cap. "Serious thinking in a park is no fun." 

"I don't think I want to get married when I'm older." 

"Really?" Rory asked with a grin, thinking that her sister was just being dramatic. Living with Sherry, you were certain to pick up certain habits. "And why not?"

"Well, look at Mom and Dad and my friend Emily's parents divorced and she moved to Los Angeles with her mom."

"Sweetie, not all marriages are like that. Grandma and Grandpa have been married for so long. And my mom is happy with Luke," Rory explained as gently as she could. She wondered if either Christopher or Sherry were aware of Georgia's issues with their divorce. "Some people make it work."

A beat and then she asked, "Then why can't you and Tristan work it out?" 

Georgia asked the question so simply, so innocently - as children her age often do - that it completely threw Rory off her guard. In fact, she couldn't open her mouth for a full two seconds and when she finally did, no words came out. She cleared her throat and looked away from her sister's unnerving gaze. Her answer was lame and trite, even to her own ears. "It's complicated, George."

"You love him."

"I don't -" Rory tried to say but Georgia didn't let her finish.

"He loves you."

"I'm not so sure about that," she muttered and played with the hem of her jacket. Their last encounter hadn't run too smoothly and his words only confirmed her thoughts – they needed to be as far away from each other as possible to maintain their sanity. 

"So what's the problem?"

"George, it's not that easy."

"You said that already," she replied and stood up, her jaw set like Christopher's did when he had made up his mind about something. She shrugged and adjusted her baseball cap again. "I'm going to go play with Jake and Lorelai." 

Rory watched her run across the park towards the sandbox. Jake smiled brightly and immediately abandoned his truck to help Georgia build a sandcastle. Lorelai looked over at her daughter and waved. Rory waved back half-heartedly while Georgia's words played in her head over and over again. She sighed and leaned her head against the chain.

"This is not going to work anymore, Tristan," she said and sat down beside him on the couch, amid all the boxes and bags that he had already started to pack. "We're heading in different directions."

_He ran his hand over his face and let out a tired sigh. She was tired of fighting too. "You're right. I can't ask you to give up your dreams and move to New York with me."_

_She folded her hands on her lap and pushed back tears. She had made up her mind to let him go and she was going to do it without letting her emotions get in the way. "And I can't give you a reason to stay in Boston with me, either. Not a selfless reason, at least." _

_His hand covered hers. She took in a deep breath, not prepared for his simple touch or the feelings that flooded her heart with it. "So this is it." _

_She only nodded in response, not trusting her voice. She managed to meet his gaze and then give him a watery smile. He leaned forward and the rational part of her screamed at her to pull away and not let him kiss her. Her heart won out in the end and she found herself being drawn closer as his lips finally met hers._

_After it was over, she stood up and made her way to the door even though she could barely stand. She wanted to turn around and see him one more time, wanted to look for some kind of a sign that there was a possibility that he would stay._

_But she didn't. Instead, she left without a backward glance. Without telling him that she loved him._

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The study in the DuGrey mansion was quiet, as the two men occupying the leather chairs were engrossed in their own thoughts. Tristan glanced through all the papers his father had handed him one more time and then shook his head, looking at William in wonderment. "Well, I certainly didn't expect this."

"Embezzlement and fraud is not something one anticipates, Tristan," William replied, an edge in his voice. 

"Does Grandfather know?"

"I thought it best not to tell him right now. He does not need stress." William leaned forward in his chair. "No one knows in the family, except you and me."

"I'd like to keep it that way for now." Tristan stood up and started to pace in front of the fireplace. He still couldn't get over it. He had never been interested in the family business, it had been the main reason he and his father were at odds but embezzlement was something that affected his family and that worried him. He walked over to the drink cart and filled two glasses with brandy. "So what are you going to do now?"

"The police are investigating. I've managed to keep it as under the table as I can," he replied and accepted a glass from his son. "But as soon as we find the culprit it will be all over the news."

"Well, you can't control that." 

"No, I guess not," he answered contemplatively and took a sip of brandy. "I want you to take the case when it goes to court, son." 

Tristan froze, glass at his lips and looked at his father incredulously. "You're kidding me." When his father shook his head, Tristan gulped his brandy down in one sip. "You've finally gone off the deep end, Father." 

"This is no joking matter," William replied, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. "You are a lawyer, if I'm not mistaken. It's what you do."

"It's what you don't approve of."

"I have never said that."

"You don't need to," Tristan shot back. He sighed and lowered himself onto the leather chair opposite his father again. "Hiring me as your attorney will be a very bad move. Is that why you asked me to come?"

"Yes, of course. Who else could I trust?"

Tristan stared at him disbelievingly. "I don't know if I should be flattered or suspicious."

William's lips twisted into a wry smile. "It's your mother. She's always going on about what a good lawyer you are. Something must have stuck."

Tristan chuckled and leaned against the leather headrest. " If this is your way of accepting who I am, then you have crappy timing, Father. This is not the best thing to reconcile over, you know that, right?"

"This is business. Run by family," he answered decisively. "We're going to keep it that way and the only way to do that is to pool our own resources." 

"You're telling me that a DuGrey works on the police force?" Tristan's voice was laced with mock surprise. "Which one of my cousins finally fulfilled their duty to serve and protect?" 

William ignored his joke and finished the last of his brandy. "Will you do it?"

"No," Tristan answered quickly. "It's not something I'm comfortable with, Father. And if this is going to turn into a full-fledged scandal, I don't want to put myself in that position. Do you really want to risk it? Besides, it would be unprofessional."

William considered it for a moment and then nodded. "Then what do you suggest we do?"

"Get you the best damn lawyer possible," he answered and then grinned. "After me of course."

"Of course." 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

The Gilmore mansion was always quiet, always comforting. Rory didn't mind solitude; in fact, she was at her most creative when it was quiet enough for her to hear her thoughts. But ever since Richard's funeral, it seemed empty – even when there were extra people in the house. 

"Beatrice," she asked the housekeeper as she wandered into the living room. "Where's Grandma. Or Mom for that matter?"

"I believe they're downstairs, Miss Rory," Beatrice answered. "In the basement." 

What were they doing down there? Rory thought to herself as she made her way down the stairs, towards a part of the mansion she rarely visited. The lights were on and she could hear the older women talking. She was about to announce her presence when Emily said, "Is Rory in Stars Hollow?"

"No," Lorelai answered. "She went to the airport to see Jess and Paris off. Why?"

"Oh, I was just curious. She seems to be doing well, don't you think?"

Rory heard some rummaging before Lorelai sighed loudly. "I guess so. You can never tell with her, though. It's hard for her to be in this house all the time so she finds ways to get out as much as possible."

"It's just as well, I suppose." There was a moment of silence before Rory heard a thud and then Lorelai's heels clicking against the tile floor. Emily, sounding flustered, exclaimed, "I can't believe that I had forgotten about this." 

"What exactly is this?" A beat. "Oh wow. Mom, why is all this baby stuff in here?"

"It's yours, Lorelai." Rory heard the distinct sound a rattle and smiled a little. "I kept it in a box hoping to give it to you one day, when you had a daughter. I remembered it after Rory was born but I guess it would have been too little, too late." 

"Wow, I can't believe you kept it."

"I wasn't about to throw it away, Lorelai." She sighed. "I guess I should give it to Rory now. If she ever wises up, marries Tristan and has a child."

Rory took in a sharp breath, in the silence that followed, wondering if Lorelai would tell Emily the truth. It had been a difficult week and she was sure she could not handle Emily Gilmore, if she knew what had happened almost a year ago.

_"Rory, stop lifting those boxes," Paris ordered as Rory dragged boxes of her stuff from Stars Hollow into her bedroom in their Boston apartment. "**Rory**."_

_Tristan, who was standing near the window, turned and raised an eyebrow. "Listen to the woman, Rory. Come here and let's finish our discussion."_

_"We don't have anything to say to each other," she answered and lugged a suitcase of her clothes by its handle. "I thought I asked you to leave."_

_"I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me," Tristan shot back and made himself comfortable on the couch._

_Jess, who was coming back in with the last of Rory's stuff glared at him. "Leave her alone, DuGrey. Do you want me to take care of this for you, Ror?"_

_"No," Paris answered sharply and then gave Rory a pointed look. "I think it's time we leave these two alone. She does have something to say to him," the blonde continued hotly. "And I think it's time she told him before things get even more out of hand."_

_"What is she talking about?" Tristan asked suspiciously as Paris dragged Jess out of the apartment and closed the door behind her. He stood up and walked over to her, looking a little worried. "And why is she concerned about you doing manual labor?"_

_"Tristan, leave it alone."_

"Rory, don't leave me in the dark. You obviously have something to say."

_"You wanna know what I'm keeping from you, Tristan? You wanna know why I shouldn't be carrying heavy things and why Jess is upset that you're upsetting me?"_

_"Yes," he replied through gritted teeth. "I want to know."_

_" Fine, I'll tell you," she spat at him angrily and then threw her hands in the air for effect. "I'm pregnant."_

To be continued…

**Author's Note: **_If anyone picked up on the fact that all of a sudden, Lorelai and Luke had a child - then you've got a better eye for detail than I do. When I started writing this, I planned on mentioning that they had kids in the first chapters but somehow, in all my stupidity, I forgot. So I went back and added a line or two about Lorelai and Luke having a five-year-old son, Jacob. Hope you won't hold it against me. _


	14. Chapter 13: Lost

**Author's Ramblings:** I just wanted to clear a few things up. The flashbacks in the previous chapters and the ones still to come aren't in any chronological order. They just occur because something in the present sets off a memory. It might be a little confusing but the timeline isn't really important. If it is, I'll mention it in the fic.

Oh and I'm going away all of this week so don't expect an update on any of my fics until the weekend or sometime early next week.

Chapter 13: Lost

_"Pregnant?" Tristan stuttered somewhat as the magnitude of what she had just told him hit him full-fledge. His face had gone completely white and she was sure that she couldn't have shocked him more if she had slapped him across the face and punched him in the gut at the same time. _

_Maybe she should have been glad that he didn't ask if he was the father. Then again, he probably assumed that she had no sex life if it wasn't with him._

_"Yes." She smoothed her hands over her stomach and nodded, not knowing how she formed the words through all the tension in the room._

_"How?" he asked and then caught himself and amended, "I mean, we used protection." _

_Rory stared at her hands; her face was hot, signaling tears. She took a few steadying breaths before she lifted her gaze back to his face. "We didn't use anything that night before you left for New York again. That night in your hotel room." They had been a little too drunk to remember to use a condom. "I was on the pill but..."_

_He nodded and ran a hand through his hair, the color returning slowly to his face. It was his turn to look away and stare at her bedroom door. He pursed his lips and she could tell he was struggling for words. "Did you plan on telling me? Ever?"_

_Anger pushed through all the other emotions inside her. "I just told you, Tristan."_

_"When you're already three months pregnant, Rory," he shot back. "And Paris had to force you to do it."_

_"Well I'm sorry," she answered through gritted teeth. She turned away from him and finished dragging the suitcase to her bedroom. He followed but she yelled to him over her shoulder anyway. "This isn't the kind of thing you tell someone over the telephone, Tristan! You left after that night. As per usual." _

_He took the suitcase away from her and shoved it further into the room, grabbing her lightly by the shoulders and turning her to face him fully. "You could have called, Rory. I would have come back."_

_"And done what, Tristan?" she asked, angry tears streaking down her cheeks. She laughed at him bitterly. "Held my hand while I waited for the test results? Hugged me when the stick turned pink? Told me everything was going to be okay? Is that what you would have done, Tristan?"_

_She saw his expression soften a bit and the hurt flicker in his eyes but she was so angry and tired she was beyond caring. He loosened his grip on her arms and looked at her steely. "Yes, I would have done all of that."_

_Those words, and the conviction and certainty behind them, threw her off more than any kiss from him ever had. Her anger almost wavered as she whispered; "I don't need you to be knight in shining armor, Tristan." _

_He let go of her completely and stepped away, running a frustrated hand through her hair. "Then what do you want me to be, Rory? God knows I've tried everything."_

_I want you to love me; she wanted to tell him. I want to hear you say those words. But she didn't say that out loud. She wiped the tears off her face with the back of her hands and lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "I don't know." _

_She saw the muscle in his jaw twitch slightly; it often did when he was angry and trying to control it. She held her breath, not wanting to fight again. Her back was aching, her temples were throbbing and she was pretty sure the yelling could not be good for the baby. She placed a hand on her stomach and saw Tristan's gaze land there as well. _

_For a minute, they both just stood their, breathing heavily and neither of them knowing what to say or do. Then, Tristan nodded very slowly and headed out her bedroom door, leaving her alone, once again._

"Hey guys," Rory called out from the second last step in the basement, giving the other Gilmores time to compose themselves so that there would be no awkwardness when she came into view. She trusted her mother not to say anything about the pregnancy to Emily but she also didn't want to force Lorelai to lie to her own mother. 

"Hey sweetie," Lorelai greeted looking relieved as she came over to hug her. "Paris and Jess went back, huh?"

"Yeah, I couldn't ask them to leave their life on hold for me. They have a wedding to prepare for and I could tell Paris was getting fidgety because it was throwing her off schedule," she joked, knowing Paris and Jess would postpone the wedding if Rory asked them to. "So what are the two of you doing down here?"

"Spring cleaning," Lorelai teased Emily who shot her a look. 

Rory smiled softly, glad that some of her family's problems were in the past, completely dealt with and not affecting the present. The drama between her mother and grandparents was not Rory's favorite childhood and adolescent memory but time had a way of healing things that previously seemed completely broken. 

"Here you go dear," Emily said as she lifted the box of baby stuff and handed it to Rory, who glanced at her mother. "This was your mothers when she was a baby. I want you to have it now, when you start a family of your own."

"Mom," Lorelai interjected, putting a hand on Rory's shoulder for support. "Do you really have to give it to her now?"

"What's wrong with now, Lorelai?"

"Nothing," Rory answered quickly, sending her mother an 'it's okay' look. "It's perfect, Grandma. I'm really touched."

Emily pressed a kiss to Rory's forehead and then started to rummage through the rest of the boxes and Lorelai pulled her daughter to the side. "Babe, what are you doing?"

"I overheard what you guys were talking about," she whispered, looking over her mother's shoulder at Emily. "I don't want to explain anything now, Mom. But I do plan on telling her about what happened before I return to Boston." 

Lorelai folded her arms over her chest. "I know it's not my decision, honey, but are you sure that that's wise?"

Rory nodded as she set the box down beside her feet and then reached up to pull her hair into a ponytail with one hand while she dug around for her barrette in her pocket with the other. When she found it, she snapped it close around her hair and rolled up her sleeves, getting ready to help with the cleaning. "I don't want her to find out years later, Mom. It's better now." 

As they turned to Emily again, they found her on the floor holding up a white wedding dress in her hands. Tears were running down her cheeks and Rory winced inwardly as she saw her grandmother's body shake with sobs.

Lorelai immediately ran to her mother and crouched down beside her, softly touching her shoulder. Emily wordlessly turned to her daughter and continued to cry. Rory could hear the concern and pain in her mother's voice as softly whispered, "Mom?"

"I miss him," her grandmother cried and held onto her daughter, unable to stop the tears. Rory felt her own cheeks grow hot as she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat and be strong for her family. 

"Oh mom," Lorelai said, her voice breaking as she held her mother tightly to her. Rory quickly crossed the room and put her arms around them. "It's going to be okay."

"He was my life…my whole life," Emily muttered in between sobs.

Three generation of Gilmore women, stayed like that for a long time, mourning the loss of a man they all loved more than anything. Together. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

"Hello darling," Arabella DuGrey greeted her son as she glided into his old bedroom. She reached him at his desk and kissed both his cheeks. "You're looking thin, Tristan. Have you been eating?"

"When I'm hungry." Tristan rolled his eyes good-naturedly and gave her a kiss as well. "You're looking beautiful, as usual."

"You're such a charmer." 

That was true, but Tristan was being honest as well. Even at her age, Arabella had maintained her slim figure and healthy color. When he was younger, Tristan remembered being fascinated with they way his mother carried herself. She was, back then, the most gorgeous creature he had ever seen. That was before the blinders had come off and he realized – at a very young age – that his parents were more fucked up than he was.

"So how are you?"

Arabella sighed dramatically. "You know me, if I'm not busy, I'm miserable. Fortunately for everyone, I've been keeping busy."

He didn't want to think what was occupying her time so he decided to change the subject. "Are you planning to take that trip to Europe, soon?"

"Oh I was, but your father cancelled it," she replied vaguely. "You wouldn't happen to know why he's so keen on my staying here, now would you Tristan?"

Tristan cleared his throat and avoided her gaze. "Of course not."

Arabella leaned against the desk and folded her arms. "It wouldn't have anything to do with why you're back home, would it?"

"Mother, I said I didn't know." 

"I will find out sooner or later, darling." She smiled sweetly at him and rested her hand on his arm. "It's nice to have you around the house again. You always manage to make things more…_interesting_ around here." 

He grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."

After his mother left, Tristan loosened his tie and stared longingly at his bed. He hadn't gotten much sleep in the last week and his childhood bed was beckoning him. He rubbed the back of his neck, weighing the decision to take a nap. The paperwork would have to wait. He quickly stripped down to his boxers and slid under the cotton covers, staring at the ceiling above him.

But sleep eluded him. Probably because his mind was in overdrive. 

He turned to his side closed his eyes shut for a few minutes, before finally giving up on sleep. He got out of bed and headed towards his walk in closet, so he could change into something more comfortable and take a walk around the neighborhood. Tristan was about to leave the room when he remembered his wallet and had to rummage through his dresser looking for it. 

That's when he saw it and the memories came flooding back.

Resting on a pile of his socks was a small, navy blue velvet box. His fingers grazed over the lid and he closed his eyes, trying to forget what had happened when he had handed it to Rory almost four months ago. 

"Tristan." She was sitting on the couch when he came back to her apartment, her legs curled under her and her eyes read and puffy. He winced, knowing that he was the cause of those tears. "What are you doing here?"

_"You figured I left, didn't you?" he asked as he closed the apartment door behind him. "Well, I wish you had a little more faith in me, but I don't blame you."_

_"I don't want to fight anymore." She sighed as he crossed the length of the living room and sat down on the couch beside her. She turned to him, eyes imploring him to understand. _

_And he did. _

_He didn't want to fight, only wanted to do the right thing. He reached into his coat pocket and handed her the velvet box. "Here." _

_She merely stared at the box, looking frightened. "What are you doing, Tristan?"_

_"The right thing," he answered and put the box in her hand. "Open it, Ror." After a minute of contemplation, she opened the velvet box and stared at the exquisite, pear shaped, diamond ring that winked in the sunlight inside. He smiled at her and reached for her hand. "It's a family heirloom. It was my great-great-grandmother's and it got passed down to my father, to be given to the woman he was to marry. My mother gave it to me a few years ago."_

_"It's beautiful," she whispered softly, glancing up at him._

_"I want you to have it, Rory. I want you to marry me." _

_She opened her mouth to answer and the closed it again. When she tried again, it wasn't what he expected to hear. "Why?"_

_"Why?" he asked incredulously, running a hand through his hair as disappointment shot through him. She was pregnant with his child and she wanted to know why he wanted to marry her? He figured that it was obvious: a sign from a higher being that it was meant to be this way. Didn't all women dream of getting married one day? Having a family? "Because we're having a baby, Rory."_

_She swallowed audibly and handed the box back to him. "I can't marry you, Tristan." _

Tristan had previously assumed that given everything that he and Rory had been through, nothing she could ever do would hurt him more than she already had countless times in the past. 

He had been wrong.

Not accepting his proposal, so calmly handing him the box back and uttering those five words would have been just as painful if she had plunged a knife into his heart and twisted it around. In fact, even that would not compare. 

_I guess it doesn't matter now, _he thought cynically as he recalled the events following his impromptu proposal and her callous rejection of it. _I was never enough for her. _

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"Hey Mom." Rory found Lorelai at Richard's grave that same afternoon. "I guess we both had the same idea."

She slung her arm around Rory's shoulder and smiled. "It's funny, I never thought to visit my father that often when he was alive. Maybe it's easier now that he can't answer back. God, that's morbid."

"Maybe," Rory sighed and stared down at the tombstone. "Or maybe it's your way of holding on." 

Lorelai kissed Rory's forehead and took in a deep breath. "After what happened this morning, I needed to get away from that house. I didn't realize how long it was since I had been out of there. Go figure, huh?" 

"It'll get better for her," Rory assured her. "It'll take some time, but it'll get better."

"And what about you? I know you, daughter dearest. You must've gone through all that baby stuff she gave you," Lorelai chided softly. "Are you okay?"

"I'll admit - it brought back a lot of memories." Rory looked down at her hands and sighed. 

"Remembering is the easy part," her mother stated wryly. "Forgetting's the bitch."


	15. Chapter 14: In My Place

**Chapter 14: In My Place**

_"I want you to have it, Rory. I want you to marry me." _

_She knew the words were coming, she had even thought about him asking her the question when she had first discovered she was pregnant. She had played out all the possible scenarios in her mind on how to tell him and one of the more elaborate sequences was where he'd get down on one knee and tell her that he loved her and wanted to be a family._

_Never once had Rory ever imagined that he'd ask after they had another fight and he had left her in the apartment, crying._

_"Why?" she asked softly, avoiding his gaze. Instead, she stared at the diamond winking back at her in the afternoon sunlight. It was such a beautiful ring; she imagined it would look even better on her finger._

_"Why?" he repeated incredulously. "Because we're having a baby, Rory."_

Don't cry_, she ordered herself and swallowed back the lump in her throat. With a shaking hand, she took his hand and placed the small box in his palm and looked away. "I can't marry you, Tristan."_

_She stood up, leaving him there on the couch and the pain in her stomach returned. It was a swift, pulsing jab that almost left her breathless. She closed her eyes and placed her hand on her stomach, grateful that she wasn't facing Tristan so that he couldn't see her. Rory wanted him to leave her alone, in her pain._

_There was a rustling behind her and then he cleared his throat. "Am I allowed to ask why you can't?"_

_"Don't do this Tristan. Not now."_

_"Why the hell not?" he asked, the tenderness completely gone and replaced by that famous temper. God, she knew she couldn't make it through another row. Before she could answer, the pain was back again, another quick blow and she doubled over just as he came to stand behind her. As quick as lightening, he grabbed her before she fell to her knees._

_"Rory!" She heard him shout her name almost urgently over the sound of blood in her ears. "Rory, what's wrong?" He was leading her to the couch; the pain was almost blinding her. "Christ, baby, what's going on?"_

_"I don't know," she replied, her voice a strangled cry. She clutched the front of his shirt, staring at his panic-stricken face. Once again, he was right where she needed him to be. She cried from the pain and comfort of it. "Tristan, the baby. Something's wrong."_

"He asked me to marry him," Rory told her mother as they sat on a patch of grass beside Richard's grave. She didn't know why but the words came out much easier here with Lorelai than they would have anywhere else, with someone else. She glanced sideways to gauge her mother's reaction and when she found none, she added, "Tristan did." 

Lorelai expelled a breath and squinted her eyes against the afternoon sun. "I figured that much. And since I don't see a ring on your finger and considering how he so obligingly left Hartford, I'd wager you said no."

Rory examined her hand, pressing the thumb of her left to the ring finger of her right. "He didn't ask me this time. He asked when he found out I was pregnant."

"I feel a foreboding déjà vu coming on." Lorelai sighed and rubbed her temple. "You know, I always thought that if you were more like me you'd be better off. I guess I was wrong again. How'd he take the rejection?"   

"Like any man would, I guess." She shrugged and brought the base of her palms to her eyes, still sore from the crying jag. "He wanted to know why. I couldn't give him an answer."

Lorelai glanced at her sideways, studying her profile. "Why not?"

"I guess because deep down, I wanted to say yes." She let out a shaky breath, and studied her hands twisted together on her knees. Lorelai reached over and rested her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "It doesn't matter, anymore."

"Then why does it sound like it does?" 

Rory let out a frustrated breath and pressed her palm to her eyes in exhaustion. "I don't know, Mom. I'm just tired of all of this. I'm tired of not knowing anything when it comes to him. I thought that after what happened, after I lost the baby that all ties were severed with him and that maybe he'd stay away. God, does that sound terrible?"  

Lorelai rubbed her daughter's back, gently. "No honey, it doesn't."

"I don't know what to do anymore," she whispered, resting her head against her mother's shoulder, amazed that the tears were starting to form again. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling, willed the pain to go away. "I miss him." 

Her mother kissed her forehead, sighed, "I know you do, honey."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

Tristan stared at his baby pictures on the mantel in his parent's bedroom, frowning as he tried to understand why his mother had dressed him up like some kind of porcelain doll when he was a toddler. Of course, back then, it was baby fashion and his mother was nothing if not a trend-setter. 

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Babies. 

_"Mr. DuGrey?" a nurse in sea-green scrubs said, tentatively as she approached him. He stopped staring at the hospital floor and quickly stood up, eager to know about Rory's condition. The condition of their child._

_"How is she?"_

_"Miss Gilmore is doing fine, she's been stabilized."_

_He tried to keep his voice from cracking. "And the baby?"_

_The look on her face said it all. She reached out and touched his arm, giving him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Mr. DuGrey. We tried but I'm afraid Miss Gilmore lost the baby."_

_He barely had enough time to get used to the idea that Rory was pregnant with his child; that his child existed and at that moment, it was all cruelly taken away from him. In one single moment. "Oh God."_

_"I'm sorry, Mr. DuGrey," she repeated kindly. Nodding dumbly, he clenched his fists to keep from lashing out at the nurse. The nurse offered a platitude he didn't hear and then asked, "Would you like to see her?"_

"A penny for your thoughts," his mother said softly from behind him. He turned to see her standing in the middle of the bedroom, hands clasped in front of her. She looked perfect. She always looked perfect. A smile ghosted her lips and she angled her head to the side, studying him. "Although, it looks like they're worth more."

"Or maybe nothing at all," he stated dryly, resting one hand on the mantel. Arabella stepped closer, touched his elbow softly. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "I was thinking of Rory."

Instinctively, her grip tightened and she came to stand in front of him, resting her other hand on his cheek. "It looked like you were. What happened, darling?"

Tristan turned his face into her palm, seeking some kind of comfort she had never offered before. Comfort from her that he had never thought he needed before. "She was pregnant. She lost the baby."

"Oh sweetheart," Arabella said, throwing her arms around his neck. His own arms, slipped around her waist as something tore in him and snapped into two. He didn't know his mother had felt so soft; she'd always been too delicate to touch. He never thought she'd be safe, so female; he always imagined her to be cool and aloof. He was twenty-seven and he had never known the comfort of his mother's embrace until now. And that almost broke him. 

He wasn't sure if the soft sob was his own but it didn't matter quite then. "Tristan, darling, you should have told me. How long? How long have you been holding this all in?"

"Four months," he managed to strangle out as he pulled away from her. "It happened in Boston when I went to visit her. We fought and she told me. I asked her to marry me and minutes later, I was taking her to the hospital."

"I'm so sorry," Arabella murmured, stroking his hair. "I should have known something was wrong, I should have felt it."

"How could you possibly?" he asked, his voice muffled against her shoulder. 

"Some kind of maternal instinct," she muttered, pulling away. "Lord knows I've never been the ideal mother but I should have known. I felt it when we talked over the phone. Your voice sounded hollow and I just…I don't know, didn't know how to deal with it. It was selfish of me." 

Tristan gently wiped the tears forming at the corner of her eyes but before he could say anything, someone cleared their throat from behind, causing mother and son to jump apart, startled. 

"I'm sorry if I interrupted," William DuGrey apologized, looking a little concerned and surprised at the same time. "Tristan and I have dinner reservations."

"I'm coming," Tristan replied and then turned to his mother, "We'll talk later."

She rested her hand on his cheek and then stood on her tiptoes to kiss the other. "Alright. You have a good time."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Rory grinned over the rim of her wineglass. "Dean Forester, Mr. Mom. I would never have guessed it."  

Dean laughed as he wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "It was a temporary arrangement while Lindsay went to help her sister deliver. Lila was just starting school and I was between jobs, it seemed like the most natural thing."

"You two work well together."

He met her gaze, smiling slightly. "You doubted it." 

"At eighteen, yeah, I did."

He studied her for a minute, and then leaned back against his chair. "You've changed somehow. It's subtle but it's there. I don't know how to pinpoint it exactly…"

She shifted, glancing around the posh dining room of one of Hartford's most elite restaurants and grinned. "But this is my natural habitat, don't you think?"

"Granted the Rory Gilmore I knew would never opt to dine in a fancy restaurant over scarfing down a pizza in front of the TV, watching sitcom reruns but it's something much more than your taste buds," he mused aloud, chuckling. "You always did fit in here perfectly."

"Much to my mother's disappointment."

"Lorelai's proud," Dean answered automatically and when she raised an eyebrow he clarified, "I ran into her at Doose's last night. Bought her coffee and she remembered why she liked me so much."

"She's so easy," Rory replied with wry grin. "I'm just so sorry Lindsay couldn't make it."

"Well, we're used to last minute cancellations," he remarked. "Lila's cold just hit mid-afternoon and she's been cranky. But, Lin wanted me to ask you over for dinner tomorrow night or something. She really wants to catch up."

"That sounds…" Rory trailed off as she noticed two familiar figures standing right behind Dean's chair. Following her gaze, Dean turned as well and then looked back at her confused. Her heart hammering wildly in her chest, she managed to stammer, "William. Tristan." 

"Lorelai," William greeted her with a kiss on her cheek as she stood up. "What a lovely surprise."

"Yes it is," she replied, feeling Tristan's eyes burn into her as she quickly looked away. "Dean, I'd like you to meet William DuGrey. William, Dean Forester a friend of mine from way back."

Dean stood up to shake William's hand and then turned to Tristan, offering his hand. This time, Rory did meet his gaze, hoping that he wouldn't cause a scene and rebuff Dean's friendly handshake. He tore his gaze away and accepted the other man's hand, smiling. "Dean."

"Well, we've kept Mr. Lowenstein waiting long enough, son," William stated, breaking the tense silence that followed. "Let's let Lorelai get back to dinner."

Tristan nodded gave her another piercing stare and then, walked away with his father.

"That was tense," Dean stated as they settled back into their chairs. "Tristan DuGrey? From Chilton?"

"Yeah," Rory answered, taking a sip of her wine to steady herself. She would not look back and see where they were sitting, she repeated to herself. She would not wonder what he was doing back in Hartford. 

"I didn't know you two are in touch."

Oh, they were so much more than that. She sighed, forgetting etiquette and resting her elbow on the table. Suddenly, pizza in front of a TV sounded much more appetizing. "We're…"

"You don't have to explain," he interjected. "It's pretty obvious the way he keeps looking over here and sending me death glares."

She felt her cheeks flush. "I'm so sorry, Dean. He's got the wrong idea and he has a really bad temper…"

"I remember the dance we went to," Dean replied, grinning. "Why don't you go over there and explain. I'm sure he'll understand that - "

She almost laughed at the absurdity of explaining herself to Tristan. When had they ever been good with words? "It's a little more complicated than that. I didn't know he was back in town and it's just…confusing to see him."

"We could go," he offered, polishing off his wine. "We could get dessert somewhere else."

"No. That would be too obvious," she answered quietly, twisting her napkin between her fingers. "There's no need to ruin our dinner."

"Something tells me that your good mood has already evaporated," he countered, glancing over at Tristan. "I know that we haven't seen each other in a long time but I can sense that something is off. I don't wanna pry but -"

"We have a rocky history," she cut him off, understanding his attempt to help her. She laughed a little at her statement. "It's been like that ever since college and it gets worse every time I see him."

"I'm sorry."

Rory lifted her shoulder in a seemingly careless shrug. She had no idea why the words were coming out so easily with Dean Forester of all people. "It's not your fault. I've really begun to lose count of how many times I've told myself that it's no one's fault."

"If it's not working, there must be something wrong, something to blame."

"Maybe there is," she replied vaguely. "You have this perfect marriage, Dean."

"There's no such thing."

"You love Lindsay unconditionally," she stressed. "You've loved her since we were eighteen. You've been married ten years and you have a wonderful daughter."

"There were times when everything wasn't normal, Rory," he countered. "Lindsay and I almost got a divorce once. And I don't know how many times we've fought and hurt each other to the point I thought I couldn't stay with her anymore."

Mortified, Rory felt her cheeks flush again. "Oh Dean, I'm so sorry for jumping to conclusions or if I offended you in anyway."

He gestured dismissively and grinned. "Forget about it. I'm just saying love isn't perfect. It just is. It was easier at sixteen when we went to a dance and fell asleep at Miss Patty's but that was a different kind of love. A much less complicated version."

She heaved a sigh, dropped the napkin on her lap. "It didn't seem less complicated at the time. I was a terrible girlfriend."

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "You were what I wanted. Love's funny like that."

She met his gaze over the candlelight and thought of Tristan. "Yeah, it is."


	16. Chapter 15: Addicted

**Chapter 15: Addicted**

William and Jonathan Lowenstein had moved onto more serious matters by the time the main course arrived. Tristan was only half listening to what the older men were discussing; his eyes kept wandering to the table across the lavish dining room to Rory's table. 

Rory and Dean Forester's table. 

Unbidden, he clenched the fork in his fingers tighter until his knuckles were white. A million questions ran through his head, the most prominent being: why was Rory Gilmore on a date with that loser boyfriend of hers from high school? He hadn't left Hartford and her behind, so that she could hook up with an old flame, he'd left so that she could mourn in peace, without having to deal with anything romantic or sexual. 

So she wouldn't have to deal with him. 

But why did it have to be Dean fucking Forester that was taking his place? Why did it have to be the only saintly boyfriend Rory ever had?

Ever loved.

He could handle some loser who she was just going on a pity date with or he could handle her turning to Jess in her time of need. Someone non-threatening. Why did it have to be the one guy she had ever run to, ever picked over him?

_He's not my boyfriend. I hate him.  _

_Look, things are really good for me and Dean right now, and I don't want anything to mess that up. Especially not something that meant nothing at all to me and I wished had never happened in the first place._

It occurred to him that he was being irrational and idiotic. That was years ago and his history with her was much more powerful than whatever she had with Dean, ten years ago. So why was Rory laughing so freely, so comfortably, as she listened to the other man regale her with some story, some stupid-ass anecdote from his boring life?

_Because you left her,_ a voice jeered at him, causing him to visibly wince. _Because you always leave her. Because you can only make her cry._

"Don't you think so, Tristan?" his father asked, pulling him back into the conversation and out of his own inner pity party.

"Yes, absolutely," Tristan replied, having no idea what his father had just asked him. Both men looked at him warily before moving onto the next subject. Tristan stared down at his untouched food, feeling guilty for not paying attention. The family business was in peril and he couldn't stop being selfish for once second, couldn't stop thinking about anything but Rory. 

He dropped the fork next to his plate and took a sip of the wine in front of him, willing himself not to look over at her table. Weak whenever it came to her, he looked up anyway just in time to see her accepting Dean's hand as he gallantly pulled back the chair for her. His fingers grabbed the edge of the table as he set his teeth as he watched the jerk lead Rory to the door, his hand resting comfortably on the small of her back. 

The age old internal conflict waged inside him: should he go after her and make a scene or just let her be? The answer seemed simple enough, he thought as he rose. When had he ever done the right thing?

A strong hand circled his wrist and he turned to see his father, looking back at him with a mixture of concern and sympathy. "Let it go, son."

Cursing inwardly – at himself or his father, he wasn't sure – Tristan shook his head and yanked his arm away from William's grip. "I can't."

When could he ever?

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"Tell Lindsay I'm so sorry she couldn't make it," Rory replied as the valet pulled up Dean's car. "I was really looking forward to it." 

Dean ran a hand down the side of her arm. "I'm pretty sure that she'll much prefer if you come over and she can cook dinner for us. She's domestic like that."

"We all know how much that turns you on." Rory grinned and lifted her face as he kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Dean. For the wonderful time."

"Anytime," he replied sincerely and then got into his car. He rolled down the window and smiled. "You haven't changed, Rory Gilmore. I look at you and still see the sixteen year old girl I once knew."

Rory let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Yes," he replied smiling and then drove off, waving once out of the window as he left the restaurant's parking lot.

The valet asked for her tag but Rory waved him off. Stepping out from under the harsh glare of the lighting in front of the restaurant, she stepped into the dark, shivered as the breeze lifted her coat away from her and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath letting the cool night air into her lungs. 

"You looked exactly like this, that night in New York," an achingly familiar voice whispered in her ear. She shivered again, this time not from the cold but from the feeling of his fingertips on the skin of her neck. A soft, sensual caress that wasn't meant to be felt but a multitude of emotions, sensations swept through her anyway. "Pale. Sad. Beautiful."  

Although there were many nights she had spent with him in New York, she didn't have to ask which one he was talking about. The night she had left him; when her world had crumbled. "That was a long time ago." 

He let out a light scoff, barely audible. His fingers continued to trace patterns on her skin. "I remember it like it was yesterday."

So did she but there was no use in dwelling in the past. Wasn't that the lesson she had tried to learn time and again where he was concerned? But even then, in the span of five minutes, she had two people tell her that she was exactly the same, always standing still. She finally opened her eyes, turned her head slightly to look at him. "I thought you left."

"I did," he replied and glanced back towards the restaurant. "I had to come back."

"Oh." The worry in his voice was hardly traceable but she knew he better, knew something was troubling him. After all, it wasn't every night William DuGrey took his son out for dinner, just for kicks. "Is everything okay?"

"That was going to be my question." A sardonic smile curled his lips and before he spoke, she knew what was coming. "Although it looks like you're doing just fine."

She let out a weary sigh. "Don't do this, Tristan."

But he barreled on as if he hadn't heard her. "I must say, he looks taller than I remember him. Did you call him as soon as I left or did you wait a couple of days, to let your sheets cool down?"  

She wasn't a violent person but she could feel the urge to slap him across his face so strongly that she had to curl her fingers into a fist to resist the temptation. She knew that he was aware of her desire and constructively, that only served to quell the fury building inside; she was too old for all this soap operatic drama and causing a scene was the last thing she needed. She looked up at him determinedly. "Goodnight Tristan."

As she turned to walk away, he grabbed her upper arm and pulled her back, reeling her back into his arms. Before she could protest, he pulled her up against him and quickly covered her mouth with his in a bruising kiss. 

She knew this tactic well: if she ever walked away all he'd have to do was pull her to him and kiss her into oblivion. 

Unfortunately, her body was traitorous and immediately responded to the way his hands roughly traveled under her coat, over the silky material of her dress. Her mind was shutting down rapidly as her body took over command and kicked every sense into overdrive. A low groan tore from Tristan's lips as he broke the demanding kiss but didn't let her go. He stared into her eyes and even in the dimness she could see the anger, jealousy and desire swirling dangerously together in the depths of blue. 

Her final resistance crumbled with that look; her wisdom and experience a forgotten memory. 

It was remarkable how she could forget everything that had happened with this man when he looked at her like that, with so much passion, so much desire that she felt that if he weren't holding her she'd melt into a puddle at his feet. 

Without saying a word, he declared his claim on her and she didn't protest.

She knew the pleasure in his embrace, the release, the mindlessness. She knew the pain. But it didn't deter her lust or change her decision, in that split second, to forget about everything and just fall back into their usual routine of sex...even with their anger bubbling right under the surface.

He kissed her again and then reached into her coat pocket for her car keys. With her blood rushing everywhere but her brain, she followed as he tugged her to the valet and handed him the keys. The valet took one look at her and smirked knowingly before rushing off to get the car. 

Tristan turned to her again, jaw set determinedly. "Why were you here with Dean?"

"What?" she asked dumbly, still breathless from their kiss. "Dean and I were having dinner. It was just dinner. For Christ's sake, he's married." It was his turn to look confused. "I was supposed to have dinner with him and his wife but their daughter got sick so he came alone." 

He nodded and she could see the guilt flash through his eyes for a second before they traveled to her swollen lips and was replaced with something else much more exciting. 

"Here you go sir." The valet drove up in Rory's car and handed the keys over, tipping an invisible hat in Tristan's direction as he passed them. "Have a good night." 

When Tristan opened the driver side's door, Rory thought that he was opening it for her and sending her home by herself. But then he slipped behind the wheel and waited for her to get into the passenger side. She hesitated for a moment, bringing her fingertips to her kissed lips.

She thought of Dean going home to Lindsay and their daughter, thought of her mom with Luke in Stars Hollow and her dad with his free-spirit-potential-wife Gwen. She thought of Paris and Jess back in Boston, getting ready for their wedding.

Then she thought of what waited for her back at the Gilmore mansion: an empty bed in a house that seemed like a foreign place since Richard had left it.

Hating herself, she went around to the other side and slipped in next to him, ready to go wherever he planned on taking her.

When had she ever been able to stop herself?

~*~ 

The fury and jealousy at seeing Rory with another man seemed to have died down, now replaced with resentment towards himself for jumping to the wrong conclusions, for making Rory want to slap him, for not being able to keep his hands off her in an attempt to mark his territory. 

He should have stayed away from Hartford, should have never come back. He should have known that if he did, there was no force strong enough to keep him away from her.

Letting go was never easy for him when it came to her but he was beginning to think that maybe it was the only way to make her happy.

The self-loathing came back full force and now the anger seemed to rule him as he fumbled with the zipper of Rory's dress. They stood outside the door of the DuGrey's pool house where he chose to spend his nights while in Hartford. He pushed her against the door, her legs coming around his waist as he groped for the handle behind her.

They tumbled in together, mouths fused and coats hanging from their arms. She worked enthusiastically at clawing his tie off and then managing to scratch at him irately in her annoyance with the buttons of his shirt.

"Forget it," he ordered roughly as he carried her over to the couch. Her zipper finally came undone and he pushed the material off of her, desperately wanting to taste skin. They fell backwards onto the couch. "Rory…"

She kissed him in response, pulling his shirt out of his pants and then fumbling with his belt buckle. As she soon as she rid him of his pants, his lips trailed down her neck, alternating between tiny bites and nips to licking the bruised skin. His mouth closed over her breast and he bit down, _hard. She yelped, and scratched her nails across the small of his back. Unconsciously she arched under him pressing her core against him. He grabbed onto her hips with one hand and let the other slip between her legs to push her panties out of the way._

Their fight carried into their lovemaking as he took her with an urgency, roughness and desperation that seemed to leave no room for commonsense or nobility. 

He yearned for her every night while he was away. His body ached and remembered the feel of hers, the heat of her skin and the smell of her hair and if this was the only way he could get her to see how he felt, how much she affected him than he wasn't going to let it pass.

Not even if it meant hurting her in the process. 

When he entered her, one quick thrust, she clung to him and he didn't miss the tears that pooled in her beautiful eyes. Tenderly, he brought his hands to her face and wiped them away as they fell onto her cheeks. She nodded slowly and moved with him, letting him set the pace. He buried his face in her hair, not wanting to see any more tears or the expression on her face. As the waves of pleasure ebbed off of him, moments later he waited for her to stop shaking under him. 

Her chest heaved under him and he was careful not to crush her with his weight.

Rory took in a sharp breath and he felt the first sob wrack her body before he heard it pierce through the quietness of the pool house. He closed his eyes, a knife twisting through his heart and turned his face towards hers, softly kissing the side of her face.

"It's okay sweetheart," he muttered and that only made her cry harder. Her arms came around his neck and he pulled her up with him, cradling her against him. She buried her face in his shoulder as her tears fell on his crumpled shirt. "Rory, baby, don't cry. I'm so sorry."

"I can't stop," she cried, pulling away from him. "Don't you understand?"

"I do," he said, running a hand through her tangled hair. "God, I understand. Just don't cry, baby. I can't handle your tears." 

She bit her bottom lips as her eyes welled. She pulled her dress up over her breast and closed her eyes. "I'm so tired." 

"I know," he said as she stood up and away from him. He pulled on his pants quickly and reached for her again, pulling her back towards him. "Come to bed with me."

"I should…" she trailed off and rested her head against his chest.

"I know," he whispered in her ear. She sighed against him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He bent down and lifted her off the ground, carrying her over to the bed towards the back of the pool house. "I'll take you home in the morning." 


	17. Chapter 16: Love You Much Better

Chapter 16: Love You Much Better

The first thing Rory was aware of when she woke up was the distinct, familiar soreness between her legs. She had felt this particular ache on several occasions in the last ten years and she knew, without having to open her eyes or gather her sleep-filled thoughts that she was in Tristan's bed. Only one man could ever make her so pleasantly numb and sore after a night of passion.

Wild, animalistic, unbridled sex.

After the first time when they had clawed off each other's clothes and went at it on the couch, Tristan had carried her to the bedroom in the back of the DuGrey pool house and while she was still crying silent tears, made love to her all over again – just as passionately as before but with much more control over his primal urges. And while any sex with Tristan DuGrey was amazing, she had wanted it rough and hard; no tender kisses or lazy foreplay.

_"Fuck me," she had whispered in his ear as he took too long to plunge inside her. "I need you inside me, **now**."_

Although he was surprised at first by her sudden demand, she could see his fragile grip on his restraint snap with the twitch of a muscle in his jaw and the lustful darkness in his eyes. She shuddered at the memory of him moving inside her, knuckles digging into her hips and she scratched her nails down the already bruised skin of his back, all the while whispering incoherently, feverishly into his ear as mindless pleasure shook her body.

"A fantastic fuck," Louise would say approvingly, as crude as it was. "No flowery poetry and soft gazes or whatever other shit those romance novels blather about. Emotions should have no place when it comes to fucking."

Rory wasn't sure when exactly she, the sweet, unassuming, small-town girl: apple of her parent's eye had become such a nymphomaniac. Correction: she was plenty sure. When she had finally given in to Tristan DuGrey's charming smile and bedroom eyes. It was when everything in her life had gone from simple to complicated. And if she was honest with herself, it was when her life had gotten so goddamned interesting.

She finally opened her eyes and it was then she felt the body beside her stir in sleep. Slowly she turned to face him, his eyes still closed as he rested on the pillow next to hers. On impulse, Rory reached up and traced the contours of his cheeks and jaw line with her index finger, like she had always done in the past whenever she woke up next to him.

Tristan opened his eyes, then, very slowly, very blue and took her breath away, like always.

"Hey." His voice came out in a sexy, sleepy whisper. He was probably surprised to see that she was still in his bed. She couldn't move if she wanted to, her body felt like it had survived a tumultuous battle. "Have you been up long?"

"No," she replied hoarsely, her throat still sore from her crying jag. He shifted a little, bringing his body closer to hers and reminding it of the pleasure of last night, already making it yearn for a repeat performance. _When would it be enough?_ she wondered, amazed. Would she ever tire of him? His finger traced up her ribcage and the shiver that went up her spine answered the question decisively: not likely.

"Last night…" he started tentatively.

"Was just what I needed," she finished for him, firmly. There was no use in letting him take the responsibility for what had happened or to make him feel guilty for taking advantage of her weakened state. For starters it was ridiculous to say that she was vulnerable in the first place. How passive could she have been if she has scratched away layers of skin on his back and forearms? She knew exactly what she was getting into. However unhealthy it was for them. "I haven't been feeling much of...of anything lately. After Grandpa."

"I know," he said softly, his fingers at her lips now, tracing them with the pad of his thumb. Of course he knew. Probably before she was aware of it herself. Bastard.

"I hadn't cried. Not really."

"People have different ways of dealing with grief," he stated wisely. "It's not wrong."

No, not wrong.

And wasn't that what had scared her the most? She closed her eyes, sighed softly and on impulse, leaned forward to kiss him. As always, the kiss escalated beyond simple and she found herself pressed up against him, hands exploring and mouths tasting. So, so right.

Frighteningly never wrong.

As she drew him closer, Tristan pulled away. His hands settled on her hips and his eyes widened in surprised. He propped up on one elbow and stared at her body, as if he was noticing it for the first time. "Jesus, Rory, have you been eating at all?"

Her face flushed; embarrassed by the way his hands were running over her hipbone and then up to her ribcage, gently prodding with his fingers. "I eat."

"Clearly not enough," he replied as he sat up straighter. "Come on. We'll freshen up and I'm taking you to the house. I'm sure there's a lot of leftover breakfast."

"Tristan -"

He slipped out of bed, completely comfortable in his own skin, and walked over to the bathroom, calling out over his shoulder. "Don't even bother arguing with me, Rory."

She picked up his pillow, lying innocently beside her, and buried her face in it. She refrained from screaming into it – she didn't think her throat was quite up for that yet – and just groaned.

After a couple of calming breaths, she sat up, wrapped herself in the bedspread and walked over to the couch to find her dress. It was lying in a crumpled heap following the trail of her lingerie and Tristan's shirt and trousers. She slipped into her clothes and tied the broken spaghetti straps of her dress behind her neck to keep it in place.

"How very _Jerry Macguire_ of me," she murmured dryly.

Rory heard the water still running in the bathroom and sighed. Her stomach grumbled a little and she realized that it had been a very long time since she had had a proper meal. Even during last night's five-star quality dinner, she only had a salad and picked her way through the pasta.

She wandered over to the bed again when she caught her reflection in the window pane. Her eyes widened a little as they zeroed in on the angry purple gashes on her upper arms. She couldn't go to the main house looking like that and she definitely couldn't go back to her grandmother's with the bruises, either. She spotted her coat lying innocently in front of the door and quickly bent over to pick it up. She'd just have to keep it on until she got home.

The jarring ring of Tristan's phone made Rory jump and she had to steady herself before she concentrated on finding the source of the sound. She located his cell phone on the couch, between the cushions and quickly answered it. "Hello?"

"Uh hi." The woman sounded unsure. "Is this Tristan's cell phone?"

Rory lowered herself onto the couch. The woman sounded pretty young. An ex-girlfriend, maybe? "Yeah, it is. He's um, in the bathroom right now. Can I take a message?"

"Thanks. I'll just call him back later," the other woman said, panting slightly; it sounded like she was walking. There was a pause, a soft intake of breath and then she said, "Is this Rory?"

Her brows drew together. "Yes, this is she. I'm sorry, do I know you?"

The woman let out a nervous chuckle. "Uh no. I'm Susan. I'm a friend of Tristan's. He's told me a lot about you."

Rory's eyes widened, wondering how well Susan knew Tristan and what information about her he had divulged. He was a private man and he only opened up to a few people. _I used to be one of those people_, Rory thought a little sadly. "Oh, um, that's nice. Especially considering he's never mentioned you."

"Well, I'm not surprised," Susan said and Rory could hear the affection in her tone. "I'm pretty forgettable to him."

"I'm sure you're not," she returned wondering why she felt at ease talking to a virtual stranger. "After all, Tristan rarely keeps in touch with ex-girlfriends."

The other woman laughed. "This is true. I guess we're the exceptions."

Before Rory could say anything else, Tristan strolled out of the bathroom, a fluffy white towel riding low on his hips and he ran a smaller one through his hair. "Who is that?"

Rory walked over to him and handed him the phone. "It's Susan." He took the phone from her, eyes locked on hers as if he were trying to assess her reaction but she dropped her gaze and mumbled, "I'll wait for you outside."

-&-

"Susan?" Tristan said as he lifted the phone to his ear and watched Rory close the door behind her. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," she responded softly. "I got your message. How've you been?"

"Oh you know me," he replied, tossing the small towel in his hand on to the bed.

"All too well," she said with a sigh. "I was worried about you last night. I called a couple of times but I guess you didn't hear the phone."

"No, I guess not," he lied. He had been a little too occupied when she had called. In fact, in frustration, he had stuffed the phone between the couch cushions instead of just turning it off. "How have you been?"

"Oh pretty good," she replied, with a long-suffering sigh. "Long hours. Rotation. No one to pat you on the back or to say thank you. Thus is the life of a resident med student. And I love every minute of it."

He smiled widely. "Now that's the Susan I know and love."

She chuckled and then cleared her throat. "So that was Rory, huh?"

"Yeah," he answered wearily, looking through the glass doors to see the brunette perched on a patio chair, tapping her fingers against the plastic covered table. "That was her. Were you two talking long?"

"You mean long enough to share the ups and downs of our relationship with you?" she teased lightly and clucked her tongue. "No, not that long so you're safe. We haven't swapped secrets yet. Of course, _I _don't have much to say."

He sighed and went to the dresser to look for old clothes that he usually kept there. "Susan."

"Sorry, couldn't resist." There was a pause, some shuffling and then she said, "Are the two of you together now? What's going on? I thought you were going back to help your father with the business or something."

"That was the plan." He pulled out a pair of boxers and old, gray sweats. "She and I kind bumped into each other and it got complicated."

"Why am I not surprised?" She sighed. "Tristan, I really don't think it's my place to be telling you this, especially since you have the habit of not really listening anyway, but you have to do something about this…this cycle. End it with her or be with her, don't put yourselves through all that pain again just because you can't make up your damn mind."

He dropped the towel and slid into his boxers and sweats. "You think I don't know this? I've tried. Believe me. Something always goes wrong."

"Well then don't let it," she replied urgently. "How much more do you think you can take, Tristan? You _love_ her. You know you do."

He glanced outside again and studied her face before closing his eyes. "I know."

"So either hold onto her for dear life or let her go."

-&-

"G'morning Claire. I hope you have leftovers."

The chef, who had been working for the DuGreys for thirty years turned and smiled brightly at them, her soft blue eyes twinkling with affection as she hugged them both. "Tristan! Rory! Sit, sit. I'll whip you up some pancakes."

"Thank you," Rory said softly as she sat down on a stool, resting her elbows on the black marble countertop. It had been years since she'd set foot in the DuGrey kitchen and even longer since she had had Claire's famous pancakes and coffee. "How've you been, Claire?"

Claire, while expertly flipping pancakes on the skillet, launched into a colorful play-by-play of the last couple of years, including the marriage of her oldest son and how her daughter was about to start law school. Rory tried listening politely, sipping her orange juice but her mind wandered.

It was odd being in the DuGrey house again, nothing seemed to change.

The kitchen brought back memories of one particular rainy night when Rory had been visiting Hartford. Tristan's parents were away and the staff had left for the night and the two of them, hungry from their _exertions, _had come to the kitchen in search of food.

They ended up having sex on the countertop.

Rory felt a blush stain her cheeks as Claire placed a plate of pancakes in front of her on that very same black marble. She stole a glance at Tristan who was staring at her, a smirk on his lips indicating that he was thinking about it too.

The sound of heels clicking on tiles drew Rory's attention to the doorway as Arabella DuGrey breezed in, wrapped in a silky blue gown. "Claire, have you seen my…oh, Tristan darling, good morning. Hello Rory."

"Good morning, Arabella," she returned as the older woman kissed her cheek. Tristan's mother smiled brightly and Rory could tell she looked very happy. "How are you?"

"Just fine, dear," she replied as she kissed her son's forehead. "Darling, you look so pale. Both of you do. Eat, eat! Oh and Tristan your father is looking for you. Be careful."

He nodded and took a sip of his orange juice. "On a scale of one to ten, how mad is he?"

Arabella gave him a wry smile. "I'd say nine and a half."

Rory felt guilt and embarrassment course through her as she locked gazes with him. She knew that whatever the reason Tristan was back in Hartford it was an important one. His father had obviously been counting on him and because of what had happened last night, he had disappointed William once again. Rory didn't have to be told that she was partly to blame and something coiled tightly in her stomach and squeezed hard.

"Tristan," a stern voice called from the doorway and now, William entered looking grave. His eyes softened when he saw Rory and he smiled. "Good morning, Lorelai."

She smiled, unable to look him in the eye and Tristan finished his breakfast and stood up, the stool scraping against the floor. "Dad, should we go into the library?"

"Alright," William agreed and as both men passed by Arabella, Rory saw her grab her husband's arm and give him an imploring look. In return, he patted her hand soothingly and then, uncharacteristically, he leaned in to kiss her.

Rory had never seen the DuGreys be intimate with one another. In the beginning of her relationship with Tristan, his parents' marriage had been going through a rough patch and they had never fully recovered from it. Most of the time, it felt as if they simply tolerated each other's presence for the sake of appearances and Rory often wondered why they just hadn't divorced. There was a subtle yet very obvious shift between them today and Rory wondered if Tristan knew his parents were reconciling after so many years.

When William was gone, Claire excused herself and then Arabella turned to Rory and smiled somewhat sheepishly. "I hope they don't bite each other's heads off."

Her eyes widened. "Is it that bad?"

"Last night they had an important meeting. William won't tell me what it is but he's pretty angry right now." She sat down on the stool Tristan had vacated. "I thought that they were trying to close the gap between them. This business stuff has finally brought them to a place where they can really just…_understand_ each other, you know?"

Rory wanted the world to open up and swallow her. How could they have been so stupid? Why hadn't _she_ just gone home? She knew how strained Tristan's relationship with William was, how much Tristan wanted his approval and respect even though he vehemently denied it. Closing her eyes and hating herself, she whispered, "I know."

Arabella must've caught the staggering self-recrimination in her voice because she reached out and placed a hand on Rory's cheek. "Darling, don't. If it wasn't last night something else could have just as easily come in between them again. It's been like this for years."

"But it _wasn't_ something else," Rory stated harshly, feeling herself flush. "I made it worse. I should have stayed away."

Arabella took both her hands. "Listen to me. The DuGrey men love very rarely and when they do, very passionately. So no matter how hard you try to break free or stay away. Or how much you curse them and hate for it…they can't let go. It's forever."

Rory felt tears pool in her eyes and her voice came out thick, "Is that a good thing or bad?"

"That depends," she said, smiling softly, "on how much you love them in return."


	18. Chapter 17: Only Words

**Chapter 17: Only Words**

"I can't say, I'm surprised Tristan," William said, staring out the window of his study to the extensive DuGrey gardens as his son sat, sprawled on a chair on the other side of his desk. He glanced at him over his shoulder and let out a troubled sigh. "I'm just disappointed."

Tristan rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. It hurt him, still, to hear his father say that. Especially when he was disappointed in himself. "Yeah, what else is new?"

Eyes blazing, William turned to him. "Do not be smart with me, Tristan. Not after the disappearing act you pulled last night, don't you dare scoff your way out of this one."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"Dammit boy," William cursed, sounding frighteningly like Janlan. "I want you for once in your life to take responsibility for your actions. Doesn't it get… _tiring_, Tristan? Don't you just wish for once, that you could do something right? By yourself? By Lorelai?"

Tristan's expression hardened as he leaned forward on the chair, palms spread on his father's desk. "Rory has nothing to do with this."

"Doesn't she?" he responded, resting his hands on the desk and leaning forward as well. Anyone could see the same rigidity in their stance, the anger carved on both their faces as they squared off like they had countless times in the past. Tristan was getting sick of the same scene; he just wished he could do something to change it. "You went after her when I told you to let it be. You were with her last night when you know it's best to just let her be. Good Lord, son, don't you think she's been through enough?"

Tristan stood up and turned away from his father. He ran a hand over his face. He knew he was wrong, there was no need for William to rub it in. "Don't talk to me about her. You don't know the half of it."

William sighed and threw his hands up in the air. "Fine, let's forget about Rory. Let's just focus on you and this family, then. Are you willing to do that without bringing all this…_drama_ into the fold? Because, Tristan, this is really important. We can't afford to slip on this. One mistake and we'll be out millions of dollars."

Tristan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Have you told Grandfather yet?"

"I thought we could do it together," William answered after a pause. "Mr. Lowenstein briefed me on our legal options last night and I think it would be better if we have some kind of a hold on this before we go to Father."

"And Mother?"

"She knows something's wrong," he answered as he sat down again and opened the file in front of him. "I'm going to ask her to be a part of the meeting with your grandfather. It'll be easier to tell them together."

On cue, there was a knock on the door and Arabella walked in. She smiled at her son as she crossed the room. "Tristan, Rory left."

"What?" he said surprised as he got of the chair and started towards the door. Arabella grabbed his arm to stop him. "Why did you let her leave?"

"She asked me to wait until she was gone to tell you," his mother answered sheepishly. She touched his arm and smiled sympathetically. "And she also left you a message on your cell phone, darling."

Before he could process it, William stood up and closed the file. "Your mother and I will give you some privacy. Father should be here in an hour."

Tristan nodded, picking up on William's underlying meaning instantly: do what you must and then forget about it and move on. "I'll be here."

Once his parents were gone, he reached into his pocket for his cell phone and stared at it. Rory had left him freaking _voice mail_. She couldn't even tell him she was going face to face. Last night had been…a turning point. He was sure that something had changed between the two of them, even if ever so slightly. After breakfast, they were going to talk and from her behavior, it seemed as if she was ready to do something about their...relationship.

_Apparently, she already has_, he thought bitterly as he slumped back into the chair. Sighing, he flipped open his cell phone and saw that she had left three messages. He accessed his voice mail and lifted the phone to his ear.

"Hey Tristan," her voice was a little shaky as it came through. "I know you're probably annoyed but I have to go and I know your mother's going to wait until I leave to tell you I'm gone so please don't be mad at her. Or me. I just need to…leave now. I know you have to deal with your dad and the business and I have my life and my work waiting for me in Boston and…last night, didn't change things." He sighed; he should've known Rory would view last night differently. When were they ever on the same page at the same time? She paused and he could imagine that she was chewing on her lower lip, thinking of what to say next. "I thought about it and I don't regret what happened, Tristan. It was what we both needed, I think. Like a wake-up call and I -"

The beep cut off the message and he accessed the next message. "Hey, sorry, stupid beep. Anyway, I know last night wasn't planned. When is anything with us ever planned? But I just need to keep away from you and God…why is this so hard?" Her voice hitched and thickened as if she were fighting back tears. His jaw tightened and he gripped the phone tighter. "It shouldn't be this _hard_, Tristan. I can't go through it again. I'm sitting here in my car, looking at your house and wondering how the last ten years of my life have led me here." The tears were flowing as she sniffed and he waited, unable to say anything. "And I thought of the child I lost. Our child," her voice softened and he felt heaviness in his chest that he couldn't shake. "And I just can't go through any more...of anything. You were right when you left for New York. We need space and time to -"

The second beep cut off her time again and Tristan closed his eyes, debating whether or not he wanted to hear the rest of the message. _Why the hell not? _He thought to himself disgustedly. _Masochist. _

This time, she didn't bother with a preamble. Her voice was stronger now, resolute and unshakable. "I'm breaking the cycle, Tristan. Or we'll waste another ten years in it. Stuck…never quite getting it right. God, this is the most honest I've ever been with you. What does that even say about me? About us? I can't put you through it and I won't do that anymore. I just can't."

She paused and took a deep breath. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine her closing her own and debating with herself on what to say next. He felt his heart thud against his ribcage as he waited for something to hold onto, the slightest glimmer of hope.

"Tristan, I…know you're coming to Paris's wedding," she said finally and he felt disappointment wash over him like a tidal wave. "I'll see you then and maybe we can…talk. I hope everything goes okay with you and William. I'm so sorry if I caused any…misunderstanding between the two of you. That's the last thing I'd ever want to do. So, I'll see you in a month. Take care of yourself, Tristan."

For a minute, he listened to the automated voice giving him his options in the stillness of his father's study, unmoving. Then, furiously, he pulled his phone away from his ear and deleted the messages. In two determined strides, he was at the door and yelling to his father in the living room. "I'll be in here until Grandfather gets here, Dad."

His mother walked into the foyer, a hesitant look on her face. "Is everything alright, darling?"

"Yeah," he answered her coolly as he met her gaze. "Everything is fine."

- & -

"More milk, please," Jacob said politely as he held out his glass for Rory.

Rory gave him an amused smile as she tipped the carton. "You really are your father's son, aren't you?"

He nodded solemnly as she laughed and bent down to kiss his head. Aside from the boundless energy and mass of dark curls that he had obviously inherited from their mother, Jacob had inherited Luke's quiet blue eyes and firm mouth.

Just then, Luke walked into the kitchen and looked surprised, "Oh, Rory, you're here. That was Chris on the phone. He says he'll pick you up at the airport and take you to dinner where you can meet Gwen."

"Okay, cool." Rory replied, surprisingly excited about the woman who could possibly become her newest stepmother.

"Do you really have to go so soon?" he asked her, putting a hand on her shoulder a small, hopeful smile on his face.

She brought her hand to his and squeezed. "Yeah, I do. I'll be okay."

"It's not you I'm worried about," he answered, rolling his eyes. "Your mother will drive me insane once you're gone."

"I heard that!" Lorelai breezed into the kitchen, swatted his arm and sighed dramatically as she bent to kiss her daughter's forehead. "I wish you didn't have to leave so soon. Can't you just, I don't know, bum around for another week or two?"

"Sure I can," she answered with mock enthusiasm. "And then I'll be fired and I can spend the rest of my life living with you."

Jake laughed and clapped his hands. "Yay!"

"Okay champ," Luke said helping Jake out of the chair. "Let's go try that new swing-set of yours, okay? Let mom and Rory talk."

When the guys were gone, Lorelai sat down at the table across from her daughter and raised an expectant eyebrow. Rory ignored her mother's look, shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

"So I had an interesting call from your grandmother this morning," Lorelai started casually. "Yeah, she wanted me to tell you that you could have called her last night and let her know that you were planning on spending the night in Stars Hollow."

"Mom -"

"I covered for you. Told her that you were indeed tucked in for the night in your old room," she continued with a dismissive gesture. "I felt like you were in high school again. Or at the very least, _I_ was in high school again. And at the same time I felt very old because it's been awhile since I've lied to Emily like that."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Rory," her mother continued calmly. "Just tell me where you were last night. You're an adult and you lead your own life so I won't give you the third degree, honey. I was just worried that you could be lying in a ditch somewhere and no matter how old you get, it'll still freak me out not to knowing where you are."

"I know."

"And I know you had dinner with Dean last night so unless you're sleeping with him…"

"God Mom, of course I'm not." Rory cut in, horrified. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed heavily. "Tristan's back in Hartford."

Lorelai's jaw set. "Of course he is."

"Dean and I ran into him at the restaurant last night," Rory continued and winced when Lorelai looked away, disappointed.

"I know," she stated and Rory's eyes widened in surprise. "I called him after Mom called to ask where you were and he filled me in. It was a very awkward conversation. Then when you didn't answer your cell and I kinda got the picture. Tristan called."

"What?"

"At four in the morning, I heard his message. He told me not to worry, that you were safe."

Rory closed her eyes. _He must've called when I fell asleep_, she thought, not knowing what to do with that bit of information. _It doesn't matter. Not now. _She shrugged, staring at the tabletop. "It was…stupid, Mom."

"Is it, Rory?" her mother asked harshly. "I mean, after all this time is that all you have say? That it was stupid? You're twenty-six. I think the time for doing something so…adolescent as 'stupid' has passed."

"I don't need a lecture now," she answered with a sigh. Her voice wavered as she looked Lorelai directly in the eye. "I ended it." Lorelai scoffed and looked at her dubiously. "No Mom, I ended it. I told him that I couldn't anymore. I left and I'm going back to Boston and he's going to New York…and it's over. It wasn't easy and I could barely explain it to him so I really don't need a lecture from you now, okay Mom?"

Lorelai's expression softened as she nodded and leaned forward on her elbows. "Honey, I just -"

"I know," Rory cut her off, unable to stand the sympathetic look her mother's face. It was bad enough when Arabella had looked at her with the same expression during breakfast. "I can't talk about it anymore. It's too…" Painful? Raw? "I just need to get back into the swing of things. I have a life waiting for me back in Boston."

Lorelai smiled and walked over to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder in a half-hug and kissed the top of her head. "Alright. I'm letting it go."

"Thanks Mom."

"Do you want to come out and play with Jake?"

"In a bit," Rory replied with a half-hearted smile. "I need to pack up some of my stuff, first."

Once she was in her childhood bedroom, she closed the door behind her and leaned against it. The talk with her mother hadn't gone as bad as she expected it would. Lorelai was used to the 'Tristan discussion' as she had named it long ago, and by this point, Rory suspected it ceased to surprise her mother. She pushed off the door with a sigh and cleared her head of all thoughts of the morning. If she was to start over, to put the past ten years behind her, it was going to start right away.

She went to her closet and pulled out a worn blue duffel bag and started to stuff in the clothes she had left here on her last visit. After a few minutes of sorting through her clothes, her gaze fell on her cell phone lying innocently on her dresser and her hopes of forgetting about last night and the morning were dashed instantly.

_Voice mail?_ Her conscience nagged at her. _You left him with voice mail messages?_ Biting her lower lip, she sunk to her bed and closed her eyes, she tried not to think about how that would have hurt him. Or would he have listened to the messages at all? Maybe that famous DuGrey pride had kicked in and in true Tristan fashion he absolutely refused to listen to what he would assume was a brush off.

She wasn't sure if that was for the better, either.

But if he had heard it, maybe he would understand. She had never put much faith in her words when he was concerned. Words, for them, had never been reliable; they had always been weapons used to wound.

And some times, words weren't needed to understand.

_"Speechless DuGrey?" Rory teased him as she descended the remaining steps and twirled for him, feeling a sense of power at the look of pure male fascination on his face and uninhibited lust in his eyes as they met hers. The dress she had been wearing was daring, by her standards; the navy blue silk draped over her curves subtley, even as the neckline plunged almost to her navel and most of the material was missing from the back. The only jewelry she wore was the sparkling sapphire pendant that nestled between her breasts. "I think this is a first."_

_"Jesus, you gotta give a guy a little warning, Ror. Wow, you look…" he said finally as he stepped forward and took her hand, "good enough to eat."_

_She would have blushed but she had never felt sexier than she did at that moment. _

_She and Tristan had just spent the entire first weekend of their summer after graduating Yale, in the DuGrey's summer house in the __Hamptons__, naked. Tristan had gotten rid of all the servants so it had been just the two of them. And after the third time Tristan had, in less than fours hours since they'd gotten there, successfully peeled her out of clothes, she had realized that clothes, even the skimpiest kind, just got in the way. _

_After two days of hardly feeling the need to wear a stitch of clothing, Rory wanted to dress up and spend a night out of the house. _

_With a smile, she tilted her face for a teasing kiss and whispered softly against the skin of his jaw, "That can be arranged."_

_They had a wonderful night, talking and laughing. He touched her hair, her shoulder, her arm. Kissed her hand, complimented her in that soft, husky voice. _

_They danced on the terrace of the restaurant, soft music playing and the others patrons watching as he dipped and twirled her exaggeratedly. _

_At dinner, he had flirted and teased, winding her up like no one else could. He seductively whispered promises of the night to come, telling her all the things he planned to do to her once they were alone. For her part, she had slid her foot up his leg, torturing him in kind_

_They spent the night making love soft and slow. With his eyes on hers, he thrust inside her, their hands interlocked over her head as they moved together in perfect unison. She had seen the look in his eyes then; felt something answering in her own heart. _

And that had only been the beginning.

They spent the entire summer together, in various cities, in various countries around the world. Together. Happy. In love. She had lost her heart to Tristan that summer, wholly and completely.

She couldn't pinpoint the moment it all fell apart.

"You have to push out more, honey," She heard Lorelai shout from outside. She walked over to the window to watch her mother and Luke, pushing Jake on his brand new swing set as he pumped his legs faster in the air. "Give a little, Jake."

Rory leaned her head against the window and watched her brother. She closed her eyes, sighing deeply. Give a little. _Maybe_, she thought sadly, _maybe there just isn't anything left to give_.


	19. Chapter 18: Starting New

**Dedication**: To everyone who waited patiently for this chapter. Yes, I do plan on finishing it!

**Chapter 18: Starting New**

"Well?" Paris asked as she stared at her wide-eyed and suddenly mute maid of honor. She stepped out from behind the partition, the satin of her white dress swishing slightly from the movement. She turned slowly so that Rory could get the full effect of the gown, the long Chapel style train, the lacy sleeves, the v-necked bodice and back. "Gilmore? I need an opinion."

Rory blinked; the sight of Paris in her wedding dress was making her misty-eyed. "Paris. You look gorgeous. God, Jess is going to have a heart attack."

That idea brought a small smile to the bride's face and satisfied, she turned to the full-length mirror behind her to check her appearance. Her hair was done in a soft French knot and the make-up was light and perfect, highlighting her smile and eyes and not in a way that made her look hideously made up. Of course, Lorelai Gilmore Danes knew her make-up. "Well, I guess all I need is my tiara. Huh, I never thought I'd say that."

Rory, who was holding the tiara in her hand, walked up behind her friend and stared at their reflections in the mirror, smiling as tears still threatened to fall. "I can't believe you're getting married. Actually, I can't believe _Jess_ is getting married."

Paris's lips twisted wryly as Rory fixed the tiara into the long blonde tresses. "Get in line, sister. I wasn't nervous. Really, I wasn't. I had no time to be nervous but now, standing here with T-minus ten minutes to go before I become Mrs. Mariano…I think I might hurl."

"Well I am not cleaning it up, Gellar," Louise stated as she sashayed into the room, her steely blue bridesmaid dress clinging to her figure and showing off her beautiful tan. Madeline followed her, carrying the bouquet and nodding enthusiastically. Both girls stopped when they saw the bride and like Rory, looked like they were holding back tears.

"Paris, you're stunning," Madeline said, letting a tear run down her cheek, trailing mascara along with it. "Damn, I knew I should have waited to make my face up until after I saw you in the dress."

The four women stood in the small room, grinning at each other and Paris sniffed. "Oh Lord, you're going to get me going, aren't you? Jesus, well, come here you guys and let's get this mushy stuff over with."

They gathered in a group hug, giggling, sniffling, talking and murmuring and each trying desperately not to cry as they took in this one moment, sort of _falling apart_ before they had to step into their roles so that the wedding and reception went off without a hitch.

Rory laughed, one arm slung over the bride and another wrapped around Madeline's waist. "Paris, you promised you wouldn't do this."

"Shut up Gilmore and let me make my speech. You guys are the best friends I have ever had," she stated seriously, sincerely and then smiled and kissed each of them on the cheek. "Thank you. For this moment. For everything."

There was a knock on the door and then Lorelai poked her head inside and smiled. "All systems are go out here, ladies. Are we ready?"

The three bridesmaids looked at the bride. Paris took a deep breath and nodded. "As I'll ever be."

& -

Tristan stood near the entrance of the church and glanced at his watch for what seemed like the fiftieth time and then at the door and then shook his head disappointed. He saw Lorelai go back into the room to signal Paris that it was time to walk down the aisle and he let go of his breath – and the frail cord of hope that he hadn't realized he'd been desperately clinging to.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Georgia Hayden was clad in a pretty cream-lace dress, holding a small basket of flowers and she didn't look very pleased about it. When Tristan merely raised an eyebrow, she gestured towards the door. "You want to go somewhere?"

The kid was sharp; he didn't expect anything else from Rory's sister. He shook his head and pocketed his hands as the flower girl's eyes remained on him, uncannily reminding him of the way Rory often looked at him. Steadily and curiously assessing him. "Just waiting for someone to show up."

The child's eyes narrowed suspiciously and he saw a spark of anger in them. "A date?"

Wisely, he held back a chuckle and kept his eyes solemn. "No, George, not a date."

After a minute, she accepted that and nodded. She had always liked him; he knew that at times she knew he wasn't the bad guy when it came to his relationship with her sister. It was very odd that the opinion of a child could matter so much to him. "Good. I don't want you to cause a scene."

Before he could promise he wouldn't, Jake walked up to Georgia and tugged on her dress. The girl turned to the boy and smiled, adjusting the pillow he held in his hands, void for now, of the rings. "Dad won't give me rings."

"You have an important job today, kid," Tristan cut in and then knelt down next to the children. "Your dad just wants to make sure that you're doing the job right. And you'll do a great job, right?"

Jake nodded enthusiastically. "The best."

"Well, it's show time," Lorelai stated as she rushed back into the entrance, the click of her heels stopping abruptly when she saw Tristan kneeling between her son and Georgia. He stood up slowly and gave her a small, even smile. "Tristan."

"Lorelai," he returned. She looked like seeing him had reminded her that he would be here, that there could be potential trouble. The distrust in her eyes had stopped bothering him a long time ago.

A potentially awkward conversation was interrupted as the bridesmaids, emptied out from the small chamber in the back. Unwillingly, he let his gaze linger on Roy longer than necessary. And she met it briefly, before dismissing him and turning her attention back to her duties.

It hurt. Even though he had prepared himself all morning to deal with the fact that Rory would be at the wedding, that at some point they would be forced to interact with each other and that there was a very good chance that she would go on as she always did, play the game he was sure they'd grown out of, pretend that nothing ever happened, but it still hurt. Beyond measure.

He turned his attention from her, the commotion of the wedding party making it easier for him to keep his expression completely neutral, and focused on Paris, who emerged from behind Rory, gorgeous and glowing in her dress. Tristan couldn't recall one time in the twenty-six years he had known her when she had ever looked as radiant as she did now; he had never considered her a typical anything and it amused him to no end that she looked like the very definition of a blushing bride.

"What are you grinning about, DuGrey?" she barked at him, as everyone arranged themselves to walk down the aisle. Paris gathered the bottom of her dress in her arms and marched up to him. "Wipe that smirk off your face. I will not have you making your lewd comments as I walk down the aisle."

He took her hands in his and his smile only broadened as he leaned down and kissed her cheek, surprising her. "Paris, you look stunning. I'm just standing here and thinking what a big dumb-ass I am for not snatching you up when I had the chance."

"You were always slow to realize a good thing when it stared you right in the face." She laughed and took his face in her hands. "Thank you. For being here, for doing this. You don't know what this means to me."

He opened his mouth to answer just as the door of the church opened and the guest he had been waiting for finally arrived. He looked down at Paris and smiled. "No, I think I know exactly what this means to you. Hello Mr. Gellar."

Paris's eyes widened in shock and she turned around and stiffened, seeing her father at the door, in a tux, fidgeting nervously with his bowtie with one hand and running a hand through his sandy-blond hair. Tentatively, he offered his daughter a meek smile. "I hope I'm not too late, Paris."

"Father. What are you doing here?"

Arthur Gellar approached his daughter, while the others realized that something was happening and turned their attention to the bride. "Tristan called me. I was surprised to hear from him after so many years, I didn't even realize he was calling about the wedding. He gave me the date and time and place and said that maybe I still had a chance. That maybe I'd still be able to give you away. And here I am, hoping that he's right."

She turned back to Tristan, who smiled and nodded encouragingly.

"Par?" Rory asked softly from her place in the wedding procession, right behind Tristan. She glanced up at him briefly, her eyes unreadable until they turned back to the bride, questioningly. The sound of the organ playing the wedding march rang through the church. "Paris?"

Tristan could see the sheen of tears in Paris's eyes as she met his and then with a determined set of her jaw as she grabbed him by the arm and shoved him Rory's direction. "You walk with Rory."

Flabbergasted, he simply stared at her, not knowing what to do. Rory bit her lower lip, struggling to make a decision as Paris hooked her arm to her father's proffered one and stared at her expectantly, as if to say, 'Are you really going to make a scene on my wedding day, Gilmore?'

Without a second thought, silently, Tristan offered his arm and she stepped forward and accepted it, sliding her hand through the crook and letting it rest lightly on his forearm. Looking ahead, they waited a minute before following Madeline and Luke, the best man, down the aisle.

& -

_"She looks really happy," Tristan commented as they swayed gently to the music, watching Lorelai and Luke, dancing to their first song as husband and wife. "I've never seen her glow like that." _

_Rory rested her head on his shoulder, sighing as she did so. "It's the 'finally' glow. The 'finally, my life is exactly the way I want it to be and even better' glow."_

_"Good to know there's a name for it," he chuckled and buried his face in her hair, a hint of the jasmine tucked behind her ear mixing with the smell of vanilla from her shampoo. "Your dad left early."_

_She tensed a bit. "I'm surprised he made it at all. It must've been so hard for him to come. Up until a few days ago, he wasn't planning on it. When he showed up, he told me he had to, not because of his sadistic side but because he had to see it to believe it. And I'm so stupid because I thought he came to object, I thought he came to make a scene."_

_Tristan ran a soothing hand down her back. "That's not stupid. It was entirely possible, given your parents' history."_

_Rory lifted her head off his shoulder and met his gaze. "He came to let her go. To let her be happy. I never believed he was that strong." _

_"Yeah, he did good." Tristan kissed her forehead and gave her a charming smile. "Letting a Gilmore girl go cannot be an easy task." _

_"I wanted to be a hundred percent happy today, nothing was supposed to ruin this day for mom or for me," she said, returning her head to his shoulder, her arms tightening around him. "But before the wedding, when I was with my dad, I was crying because he looked so lost. Do you think it's possible to be so extremely happy, head over heels happy and yet still feel like the bottom of your stomach is going to fall out because you're in so much pain, too?"_

If you loved someone more than you ever thought possible_, he said to himself as he stared down at her face. He shrugged and inclined his head to the side. "Yeah I think it's entirely possible."_

_- & -_

Luke stood up a little unsteadily, looking entirely too uncomfortable in his tux with a delicate flute of champagne in his hands, clinking a fork against the rim of the glass as he waited for the guests at his nephew's reception to quiet down. When the murmurs halted and everyone turned their attention to him, he shifted a little in his place. "Well, uh, I'm supposed to make the toast. Obviously, as you all probably know, I am not good at it. My step-daughter and maid of honor, Rory, has a way with words so I think I'll hand my job over to her but I just wanted to say congratulations to the happy couple. Jess, I never thought this day would come and welcome to the family, Paris. I wish both of you all the happiness in the world."

Murmurs and light applause broke out as Luke leaned down to kiss Paris and Rory stood up, smiling, as all eyes were on her. Smoothing a hand over the front of her dress, she let her eyes linger over the guests before resting on Tristan, seated almost all the way in the back, watching her intently, his expression completely bland. The nest of sleeping butterflies in her stomach awoke, suddenly, spreading their wings, rising up to clog her throat a little.

She had managed to stay in control, be poised and gracious, during the entire wedding. Even as they walked down the aisle together, her feet unsteady, her face probably belying the calm air she tried to affect, she had managed to make it through without breaking down. His eyes on her now, even with everyone else looking at her, felt like they could see right through her.

Desperately, she quelled the urge to turn and run.

"When I first introduced Paris and Jess, way back in our junior year of high school, never in a million years did I think that I'd be at their wedding one day. They didn't exactly…mesh well together way back when," Rory said with a slight chuckle, fondly remembering their conversation over macaroni and cheese and French fries. "But I look at them now and I know they're both rolling their eyes at me behind my back when I say this," she paused when everyone laughed and looked over at the newlyweds, with a cheeky grin, "but these last few years, as surprising as it is to me, they've been my example. Of friendship, of happiness, of two people who just make it work, no matter what. And at the risk of sounding like something out a really bad movie, they've shown me what it is to love someone, naturally, truly, forever. I love you guys and wish you nothing but the best in life. So if you will all raise your glasses with me: to Paris and Jess."

"To Paris and Jess!"

Glasses clinked together and applause broke out as the newlyweds leaned in for a kiss amid whistles and catcalls. As everyone went back to their conversations, the music picked up again and Rory sat down, surreptitiously letting her eyes rest on Tristan again, who was chatting animatedly with the redhead to his right.

Before she could bore a hole in his head with her stare, her attention was thankfully diverted by Paris, who grabbed her by the elbow. "So how much longer do I have to sit here and smile? My cheeks hurt like hell!"

Rory mock-gasped and then gave her a disapproving stare. "Paris, are you not enjoying your own wedding reception? Where could you possibly rather be?"

"Do not mock me, Gilmore," the bride stated fiercely through gritted teeth. "There's a room at the Ritz-Carlton with Mariano – _our name_ - on it and _you_ arranged it. I want to get out of this damn dress…well, let Jess help me out of this damn dress…"

Rory cut her off with a grimace. "Oh God, stop Paris. I thought you getting hitched would mean that I wouldn't have to think about or catch about you and Jess in a _compromising_ position."

Mrs. Mariano snickered. "Don't count on it."

"You two are insatiable. It's disgusting." Rory glanced across the room to Louise, who caught her gaze and nodded. "Well, you can't leave until you have your first dance as husband and wife."

"Stupid traditions."

"I know," Rory said consolingly, patting her hand. "It's a travesty that I am trying to make this night memorable and romantic for you when all you want to do is have hot and wild sex. Jess? Ask your wife to dance."

Jess paused for a moment, considering; Rory could see he was steeling himself for dancing – slow dancing – in public. Then the soft strands of a familiar song started to play and he offered Paris his hand, giving her a grin. "And so it starts."

& -

Since the moment she had placed herself in front of him, cutting in on the redhead he was dancing with, he wondered what the hell it was she thought she was doing. She was impulsive, he knew, but this was extreme, even for her.

It was awkward.

Tristan never liked being alone or this close to Lorelai at any given time. Bad things usually ensued; they never got along well, not liking each other completely. _Not true_, a voice reminded him. _You two get along just fine when Rory's not between you_. Over Lorelai's shoulder, Tristan's lips curled in a wry smile. _Ironic, isn't it?_ It was because of Rory he and Lorelai tried to bury the proverbial hatchet but ultimately, it was always Rory that came between them.

As if sensing his thoughts, Lorelai pulled back slightly and looked at him curiously. "What?"

He lifted his shoulders. "Just wondering what you and I are doing here."

"I think it's called dancing."

His smile was genuine. "I was actually trying to emphasize the 'you and I' part of the sentence."

"Ah," she replied with a half-smile of her own. "I don't know, really."

"Well, you're the one who cut in," he reminded her.

"Okay so maybe I have a little idea," she admitted then focused his gaze on him. "You looked sad."

He shifted uncomfortably, almost stepping on her feet as he tried to avoid her eyes, trained on him, so scrutinizing. "I'm okay."

"Okay," she conceded with a small nod. After a beat, she continued, "I was watching you earlier. When Rory made her toast, you looked sad then too."

"Your daughter is eloquent."

Lorelai raised her eyebrows, her expression dubious. "You know, all the time I spent hating you for making her so miserable, I forgot you were hurting too. I guess it was easier for me, if I didn't remember that."

Tristan was rarely, if ever, embarrassed. Years of conditioning had taught him to rein in emotion during social gatherings and family events. The show, after all, must go on and emotions were too much of a hassle to deal with, an inconvenience. The fact, however, that Lorelai could tell what he was feeling during Rory's toast, shot his training to hell and made him squirm in his spot to avoid her gaze. Still, instinct kicked in. "It was nothing."

She gave him a 'who you kidding?' look. "It's never 'nothing' when it comes to you and Rory. Believe me I have tried to convince myself of it for a long time. Didn't work."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Don't be a wise-ass."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Lorelai," he admitted as he twirled, more out of the need to move her away from him than to follow the steps of a dance.

He pulled her back and she let her hand curl in his. "And I don't know what I want to hear. From either of you. I've stopped trying to predict an answer or outcome."

For a few moments, they danced in silence, lost in their thoughts, unsure. Tristan watched Rory dance with her father and she glanced at him then, their eyes connecting for an intense moment, neither of them looking away.

"You know," he murmured finally, when Rory was the first to break eye contact, "Probably, in all the time you spent hating me, I hated myself too. But you've always known I have always loved her."

Lorelai's grip on him tightened, instinctively. "Yeah, I did. So maybe that's a start."


	20. Chapter 19: If I Lay Here

**Chapter 19: If I Lay Here**

There were bags under her eyes, Rory noticed as she perused her features in her vanity mirror, before bed. During the wedding the make-up and Louise's perfect touch-ups had hid the telltale signs of stress and lack of sleep. She told herself that it was due to the stress from work after coping with her Grandfather's loss and the running around she did in preparation for Paris's wedding that contributed to the dark shadows under her eyes. She told herself sternly, that the restlessness she experienced every night for the past month, even when she was physically exhausted, was because she was juggling work and handling the details for the wedding.

Rory Gilmore had become an expert liar.

Her head whipped up startled, when she heard the knock on her door. Glancing at the time on the bedside table, she reached for her robe off the bed and belted it on her way to the door. It was well after midnight and she was sure she had taken care of most of the post-reception details after Paris had tossed the bouquet and the wedding party dwindled down.

She shouldn't have been surprised to open the door to find a rumpled and very wet Tristan DuGrey. His hair was matted to his forehead, he was still in his tux but the bowtie was undone and his shirt un-tucked. Ignoring her nerves – she hadn't spoken to him in a month – she tried to keep her voice normal and civil. "Tristan, what are you doing here?"

"I noticed," he said as he stepped forward, leaving her no choice but to take a step back and let him into the apartment. As he brushed past her, she caught the slight smell of alcohol on his breath and let out a disappointed sigh as he continued, "that you didn't dance with me at the reception."

She closed the door behind her, turned to him arms folded across her chest and ignored the fact he was dripping water onto her wooden floor. "You never asked."

He raised an eyebrow and let out a mirthless chuckle. "And have you bolt in the other direction as fast as you could? My enormous ego couldn't have withstood that kind of rejection."

"I wouldn't have run."

His eyes met hers and he said, very quietly, "That's all you've ever done, Ror."

She dropped her eyes, tired. If they continued down this path, they'd fight. Really badly. And her feet were just too sore at that moment to be fighting with him. "Why'd you come here, Tristan?"

He pocketed his hands, dropped his gaze and shrugged. "Don't know, honestly. I was getting a little tipsy; I had to stop since I was driving. And I was here. Stood on the sidewalk, in the rain, under your window, and watched you move around up here." He lifted his head again, met her eyes and she watched as his lips twisted a little ironically. "What is it about you, Gilmore that has me so tangled up in knots? I've tried to figure that out since we were sixteen."

She took a step closer to him, testing the ground, herself. "I know we have to talk. I just wasn't expecting to do it tonight. Maybe we should get you out of those clothes first. You ruined a good tux."

Without thinking, almost naturally, she reached forward and tugged at the jacket of his tuxedo. She regretted her actions as soon as she looked up at him and saw the familiar gleam in his eyes. "That's my Mary, always in a rush to get my clothes off."

She shook her head, not taking the bait as she continued to wrestle the wet shirt away from his body. "Don't Tristan. Don't make this about sex."

Tristan let out a bitter chuckle and grabbed her hands by the wrists, pushing them away from him as he continued to undress. "Why the hell not? What makes tonight different from any others?"

"Because you're drunk and angry. And I'm tired."

Tristan leaned in and smirked. "Like that's stopped us before." And she couldn't say anything else as his lips closed over hers. She kissed him back, more out of instinct and habit, but the taste of vodka on his tongue had her pushing him away in an instant. He took a step back and looked at her, his blue eyes vivid with anger. "Do you think this is what I want, Rory? For us to be fuck buddies and nothing else?"

Biting her lower lip, she folded her arms over her stomach and avoided his gaze. "I don't know what to think, Tristan."

He ran a hand through his wet hair and let out a deep breath. "Me neither. I hate this cycle we're in, Rory. You were right about that. It hurts, okay? It fucking _hurts_. Every relationship I have – try to have with anyone else - is doomed because I'm…stuck, here in this stupid, ridiculous place with you. And I know it's healthier, for the both of us, to move on. But I can't. _We_ can't. So I don't know what to think either. I try to drink it away and where does that take me? The one place I know neither of us wants me to be, your fucking doorstep, right at dysfunctional square number one."

During his angry spiel, Rory was fighting back tears and hurt words of her own. Gathering her courage, she opened her mouth to speak. "Tristan -"

He heard that soft lilt in her voice, the almost pitying tone and cut her off before she said something that would only tick him off more. "No, Rory, don't give me any platitudes right now. Not when my head is killing me. I'm so fucking tired."

She wanted to tell him she understood and that she knew exactly what he was feeling. The last thing on her mind was to offer platitudes. But once again her words were lost in the countless, endless sea of things they never said. "I'm going to go make some coffee. There are still some of your clothes hanging in my closet."

He nodded, picked up his wet tuxedo jacket that had fallen to the floor and avoided her gaze. "I'll go change."

Rory put on a pot of coffee and then busied herself with tidying up the sink. Her mind was whirling even as her body was fighting to rest. She knew that now, with Tristan here and their incomplete goodbye hanging over their heads; it would be a long time before she fell asleep. She only prayed that when she finally did, it wouldn't be from tears.

As she squeezed detergent onto a sponge and began to wash the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, she prepared mentally for the battle she knew was coming. It was a conversation she was dreading. For weeks, she'd felt like when the time finally came to face him again, it would be the last time. It wasn't healthy for them to carry on anymore and all the pretending they'd been doing had to come to an end.

She didn't know what shifted since the last time they'd been together but it was there and they both seemed to be truly aware, for the first time in ages that they needed to stop hurting each other. His words reverberated in her head.

_Do you think this is what I want, Rory? For us to be fuck buddies and nothing else?_

Fuck buddies.

No, he was never that. They were never that and she wouldn't let his hurtful words ever make her believe that he was just a fuck buddy. She had accepted long ago that he, in all his dysfunction and with all his flaws, was the love of her life - though she had never really gotten around to telling him that.

And now it just seemed too late.

The coffee pot beeped and startled her out of her thoughts. She glanced down at the sparkling clean plate she was holding under the tap for the last five minutes. Shaking her head, she quickly finished cleaning the rest of the dishes and then poured two cups of coffee and carried them back into the living room.

Tristan was sprawled on the sofa in his Yale sweats, head thrown back and eyes closed. He looked weary and tired and Rory wasn't sure how to approach. She walked over to him quietly, and placed the cups of coffee on the table.

"Tristan?" she murmured as she sat down beside him. It was then she realized that he was asleep, even snoring very, very softly as was his habit. She bit her lower lip and stared at him for a minute, unsure of what to do. Shaking her head, she let out a soft chuckle. "Jeez, when you said you were tired…"

Sighing, she lifted her cup of coffee off the table and to her lips to take a sip. It looked as if their conversation would once again, be postponed until later. She stood up and went into her room to get him a blanket and a pillow.

Once he was tucked in, she looked at him and hesitantly reached out to touch his face. He stirred a little but didn't open his eyes. Sure that he wouldn't wake up, she let her fingers run through his still-damp hair and whispered the words she could never say to him when he was awake: "I love you."

- & -

Tristan pushed through the fog in his brain as he opened his eyes, pushed through the last vestiges of sleep and the little hammer pounding away at the base of his skull. It took him a minute to take in his surroundings – Rory's living room, her sofa; the fluorescent light from the muted TV was the only illumination in the room.

Immediately, he remembered why he was there and sat up quickly. It was then he spotted Rory on the armchair next to him, curled in a small ball, sleeping soundly. Unblinking, he watched her for a minute before expelling a breath. Damn it, he had fallen asleep, right when he was ready for a knock-down-drag-out fight that, he was sure, would end the saga of Rory and Tristan once and for all.

And then maybe they'd have some semblance of peace.

He stood up and walked over to her, bent down to brush the hair out of her face. She didn't stir but he was sure that the armchair was very uncomfortable. He reached for her, hooked his arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders to lift her up, cradled against him. This time, she stirred and nuzzled against his neck before bringing her arms around him.

"Mm, what's going on? Where are we going?" she asked sleepily, without opening her eyes.

"To bed, baby," he said softly as he headed towards her bedroom.

She frowned. "We're not having sex now, Tristan."

He chuckled as he entered her room, teasing her when she was half-asleep was always fun. "Okay, later then."

She snuggled closer, sighed against his neck. "Later works for me."

He smiled into her hair and then laid her down on the bed. She opened her eyes then, looked at him through heavy lids before closing them again. Her arms were still twined around his neck and a small smile played on her lips. Unable to resist, he leaned forward and brushed his own against hers. "Sleep tight, Rory."

"Stay." She said it so softly he wasn't even sure if he heard her.

"I'll be outside on the sofa," he answered nobly, even though he was yearning to get under the covers, to hold her as she slept. "You're tired. Get some sleep and we'll talk in the morning."

Rory opened her eyes, implored, "Stay with me, Tristan. I need you to."

As always, her eyes were what got to him and he relented, slipping under the bedspread. She turned on her back, spooned against him as his arm went around her waist. _Jesus Christ_, he thought as he breathed her in. How was he ever going to stay away? How had he ever been able to?

"We'll talk in the morning," he said softly, in her ear.

"Mm," she answered languorously, "in the morning."

- & -

Rory stirred in her sleep, clutched onto the warm body next to her and remembered where she was and who she with. Slowly, she opened her eyes; the pearly light of dawn filtered through her windows and illuminated the planes and angles of Tristan's handsome, sleeping face. Her arm was draped loosely around his waist and the other held onto his hand under the covers. His leg was intertwined possessively with hers, and his body was warm from sleep.

She was about to get up when his voice stopped her. "Good morning, Rory."

"Morning," she answered and didn't move, didn't look up at his face. Instead, she brought her head to his shoulder and snuggled. "Have you been up long?"

"No," he said softly, against the skin of her forehead. "Didn't feel like getting up just yet, though."

She traced patterns on his chest, over the material of his Yale T-shirt. "Me neither. Thanks for bringing me in here. And for staying."

He ran his hands down her back, softly, intimately, and kissed her forehead. "Of course."

Even as his touch aroused her, Rory knew that she couldn't let it get out of hand and that they couldn't just fall back on to easy, destructive habits. They were grown-up and for once they were going to discuss things calmly and rationally. She had made up her mind. But she didn't mind having said discussion in bed, in his familiar embrace which was both comforting and safe.

"I had the weirdest dream," she said finally looking up at him. His mouth curved into a half-smile. "Paris and Jess decide to honeymoon in Hawaii and then decide to stay there - forever. Paris works on her tan and sells grass skirts to tourists and Jess takes up surfing."

He chuckled. "Yes, weird. We should call them up, just to make sure though."

"It was a beautiful wedding."

"Yeah." He shifted slightly, brought his hand to rest on the small of her back. "Your speech was…great."

"Thanks." She looked at him again, smiling. "What you did for Paris, for her father…it was just -"

"The right thing," he finished for her.

"Yeah." She nodded, rested both her hands on his chest. She watched him for a minute, contemplating. "Do you know when it was I first realized that I was in love with you?"

This time, he stiffened slightly but she kept her eyes on him, calm and unmoving. He felt something burst in his chest at her words but he was too afraid to name it. "When was that?"

"It was before that summer after graduation," she answered. "Do you remember that?"

Sex, love, solitude and peace – of course he remembered. "Yeah."

"Well I was cramming for my English final – my last one and you were done," she answered with a grin. "You drove out to Boston to keep me company – well to distract me. You never succeeded, by the way."

Now he smiled lasciviously. "Au contraire. I remember a rather steamy shower we had right before I sent you on your way."

She swatted at his chest. "That's right. And I had to run across campus so I wouldn't be late. Damn you." He lifted his shoulder in a careless shrug and continued smiling at her. "Anyway, the night before while I was studying, you fell asleep on my bed. You got bored with my flashcards."

"Well, flashcards are for wimps."

"_Then_ I just kind of watched you for a minute," her voice softened and her eyes filled slightly. "And I just knew. It was like, bam, a revelation. I knew. I had been all that time. Like never before, I loved you. And that would never change."

Tristan waited for a minute, unable to speak around the hot lump in this throat, and shifted a little but kept his eyes on hers. "It was a little before that, for me."

"When?"

"When you walked right back into my life, changing it, ruining it, making sure I'd always be miserable if I was ever without you," he answered honestly. "It took me one second to know that, Ror. Not the last ten years that has been our life but one fucking second."

She laid her head on his chest and murmured, "You never told me."

He kissed her hair. "No, I never did. And neither did you."

This time, she sat up, curled her legs under her and let the covers fall to her waist. He propped himself on his elbows and stared back at her, waited for her question. "What does that say about us? What do we even do with that, Tristan?"

He looked at her, incredulous. "I wanted to marry you. I fucking asked you. The rest of my life, with you, Rory. That was the only way I have wanted it ever since I was eighteen."

She looked at him, anguished, and remembered how hope had soared in her for the briefest of seconds when he proposed. Remembered how she had been crushed beneath the weight of it when she thought of the baby. "I couldn't. Not when I thought it took a freaking unwanted pregnancy to get you to ask!"

"It was never about just the baby, Rory," he answered, sitting up fully. "And _Goddamn it_, the baby was not unwanted. Not by me."

Tears welled and fell onto her cheeks. "We couldn't have had a baby. Not then. Babies do not bring people together. They shouldn't. It's not fair."

He grabbed her shoulders, shook her slightly. "Damn it, Rory. I wanted that life with you. I would have done anything. But you ran; you didn't even let me hold you when you lost it…you just pushed and pushed. And I was tired of pushing back. Of begging you to let me in."

She pulled away from him, pushed herself off the bed and started to pace in front of him. He recognized panic when he saw it, felt it fluttering in his chest. She was breathing heavily now, her hands running haphazardly though her hair. "I wish I knew what to do."

His eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"

Rory stopped her pacing, looked at him and bit her lower lip in confusion. "Tristan – I got a job offer. Mitchum Huntzberger offered me a job."

"What the hell does that have to do with us?" he asked, getting off the bed and coming to stand in front of her. "I mean congratulations but what does that have to do with anything?"

Her eyes widened, emotions swirling in their depths. "The job's in London."

_To be continued… _


	21. Chapter 20: To Be Happy

**Author's Note: **Wow, how long has it been? Feels like forever. Well, married life is busy, people. While I do appreciate the fact that people still want me to update this fic and are interested in it, I haven't been as dedicated to it as I once was…I will finish it but it'll just take me some time. There is only one more chapter left in this fic after this one so hopefully it won't take that long. Thanks for the patience, people.

**Disclaimer:** The lyrics in the chapter are Snow Patrol's "You Could Be Happy".

**Chapter 20: To Be Happy**

_You could be happy and I won't know  
But you weren't happy the day I watched you go_

_You could be happy, I hope you are  
You made me happier than I'd been by far_

Rory stared out the window of her office into the dull, gloomy London evening. Typical, as everyone said it would be. It wasn't as if she didn't enjoy her job and she didn't even dislike London either – she was just terribly homesick after six months away from her friends and family.Six months away from Tristan.

Shaking her head so that she wouldn't dwell on that particular sensitive subject, she turned her swivel chair towards her desk, intent on doing what she was paid for, by Mitchum Huntzberger.

She felt someone staring at her and looked up to see blonde hair and charmingly devastating smile. One that always made her smile back, regardless of the mood she was in. "Logan," she greeted, standing up. "Hey."

He crossed the room and came around her desk to stand next to her. "Hey Ace. You look sad."

She waved her hand in the air, dismissively. "It's the weather. It makes me sad to see such gloom. And so much grey. Seriously, what is up with London?"

"Something only a foreigner would say," Logan joked, running a hand up her arm. She didn't jerk away from it as she would have in the beginning of their acquaintance. After about a month of seriously considering bringing the son of her boss up on sexual harassment charges, she realized that Logan just happened to be extraordinarily touchy-feely. Only with her, she knew this, but after developing a friendship with him in a place where she had no one familiar, it was comforting to have Logan act as if they'd known each other for years.

"Yes and you're so British it's shocking," she retorted sarcastically. "I don't know how you and Madonna do it."

"And Gwenyth, too."

"Right, of course."

"Well, we have a club," he answered with a grin. "It helps."

Rory rolled her eyes and then laughed. "So what's the plan for tonight? Debauchery and debasement with your two cronies as per usual?"

"Well of course," he deadpanned but then reached for her hand and kissed the knuckles. "Or I could take you out to dinner. There's a swanky new place in town and it has a huge waiting list. I'm not on it and I'll still get us a table before the guy who booked it for his anniversary months ago."

"God, you're such a romantic."

He ignored her sarcasm. "What do you say?"

She looked at him sternly. "What I always say, Logan."

He let out a resigned sigh. "It's not a date."

She nodded. "It can't be. But a girl's gotta eat and I love swanky restaurants."

Logan grinned. "Fine, I'll take it."

"I give you no other choice," she answered cheekily. Before he could say anything else, her cell phone vibrated on her desk and she didn't have to look at the caller ID to know it was her mother. "Lorelai calling."

"Tell her I say hi," he said, taking his cue. "I'll wait for you downstairs. Ten minutes?"

She nodded and reached for her phone. "Ten minutes." Once he was gone, she flipped it open and put it to her ear. "Hello mother."

"Daughter," Lorelai replied equally serious. "When are you coming home?"

"Like I said, for Christmas. In exactly a week," Rory replied, sitting down in the chair and swiveling around to look outside the window again.

She could almost hear her mother pout. "But mommy misses you."

"I miss you too Mom," Rory replied with a sigh. "How's Jake?"

"An angel," he mother replied, melodramatically. "Just like you were. Where did I go wrong, I'd like to know? Or does this kind of thing skip a generation? I mean, why can't he - for my happiness - just once, destroy something. Or run around the house or Inn and wreak havoc? I'll even settle for uncouth manners. But no, my son, has to say 'please' and 'thank you' and 'you're welcome' all the time. I'm telling you, if I didn't see him come out of me, I'd say he wasn't mine."

"Gross Mom," Rory laughed, feeling her bad mood evaporate. "Well maybe it's something he'll grow into. Just you wait, come adolescence and he'll hate you and bring home unsuitable women and chain smoke."

"One can hope." Lorelai changed the subject. "How's the Huntzberger heir apparent?"

"He says hi," Rory replied running a hand through her hair. "We're going out for dinner."

"He looks like trouble," Lorelai said, judging from the picture she saw of him online once Rory mentioned that they were friends, months ago. "Sexy but trouble."

"Well then just my type, right?"

"Are you serious about him, honey?"

"Mother," Rory stated irritated. "I've told you a million times, we're friends. I can't be serious about him."

"He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to just give up," her mother said. "They're the 'get what they want' types. You of all people should know this."

"Mom," she insisted. "Nothing is happening between me and Logan. He knows that. I just like hanging out with him, it's like having someone familiar in a strange country."

"There's a reason why he's familiar."

"He's not Tristan."

Lorelai sighed, giving up. "As long as you're aware…"

"I am."

"Good. So then…Christmas?"

Rory smiled; relieved the conversation about Logan was over. "The day Christ was born, yup."

"Fine. I'll talk to you later, sweets."

"Love you, Mom."

--

"So you're heading back home for Christmas?" Logan asked her he wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

The restaurant they were in was swanky, the food was delicious and so far, Rory was enjoying herself. "That's the plan. You?"

"Yeah, my grandfather insists we spend holidays together."

Rory took the last bite of her steak, chewed and swallowed. "The Huntzbergers are a close-knit bunch, huh?"

Logan scoffed, took a sip of wine. "Oh yeah, we're the Bradys."

"Yet holidays together are a must?"

"After Grandma passed away," he said, looking a little sad, "yes they are."

"My grandfather passed away a few months ago."

"I knew Richard," Logan said, surprising her. "I'm sorry."

She accepted his condolence with a small nod. "Anyway, my grandmother insists on our ritual Friday night dinners together. But without him there, it's just not right anymore. And that leaves us alone, with Grandma and Grandma is just so…"

"Emily?" Logan supplied with grin. "I know what you mean. The family gathers for the holidays so we can 'spend quality time together' as he puts it, but Grandfather misses Grandma so much that he gets drunk. And my grandfather is a fucking mean drunk. Excuse my French."

Rory shook her head, smiled wryly. "And on that note, dessert?"

"Anything you want," he answered and summoned the waiter, looking at her in that intense way of his that made her extremely uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat and avoided his gaze, instead focusing on her wine glass. When the waiter arrived, Logan, without bothering to ask her, placed the order. "We'd like the chocolate mousse. Two spoons."

"Yes Mr. Huntzberger," the man answered dutifully before clearing the table and walking away.

"You didn't ask if that's what I wanted." Rory said lightly.

He smiled, eyes trained on her, assessing her. "Didn't have to."

"I might've wanted the tiramisu," she argued, uselessly because she really did want the chocolate mousse and hated that he knew that. "Or the crème brûle."

"The chocolate mousse is better," he answered arrogantly, annoying her. "Can I ask you a question?"

Folding her arms, she answered childishly, "I don't know, can you?"

He laughed at her, eyes filled with humor. "Funny girl. But seriously, I don't think you're going to like what I want to ask you."

"Just ask."

He waited, leaned back in his chair and studied her before asking, "There's a guy, isn't there?" When he only got a blank stare from her, he elaborated. "The reason why when walk you home tonight and try to kiss you, you'll give me your cheek – it's because there's a guy back home."

She considered lying but knew that Logan was extremely perceptive when he wanted to be so she inclined her head to side, answered as honestly as she could. "Well, first it's because you're my boss." When he waved his hand dismissively, as if that didn't matter, she continued, "but yes, there's a guy. It's complicated."

Logan took another sip of his wine, nodded tersely. "Doesn't sound complicated. There's a guy. Of course there's a guy. It's simple."

Because she had grown to care for him over the past few months, Rory leaned forward and took his hand in hers. "It's been on-and-off with him for years, for too long. I don't know what we are but," she paused to smile brightly, "I do know that if it wasn't for him, I would have let you talk me into bed by now."

He linked their fingers together, chuckled. "Yeah?"

"Oh yeah," she answered with a laugh. "You had me from the moment you tried to grab my ass while innocently reaching behind me to grab a stapler off my desk."

"I remember no such incident," he said and the pulled his hand away when the waiter came with the dessert. "I really do like you, Rory Gilmore."

"I really like you too, Logan."

"So this complicated guy," he said, dipping his spoon into the chocolate mousse. "What's his deal?"

--

Rory dropped her keys into the small glass bowl in the foyer of her one bedroom apartment and closed the door behind her with the heel of her shoe. Smiling, she touched her fingers to her lips, to the spot where Logan had kissed her moments ago before wishing her goodnight and walking away. She hadn't given him her cheek like he had said, mostly because he moved so quickly she didn't realize what he was doing until his lips pressed against hers.

It was a nice kiss. Different. A little exciting, she had to admit. It had been a long time since she had been kissed like that, for the first time, gently, unknown territory. Tristan's embrace was familiar, exciting and raw, but familiar. Tristan's kisses had her head spinning and emotions churning hours after the fact.

Logan's kiss was simple, made her lips tingle, her knees go weak.

Despite her protests to Lorelai, she _was_ attracted to Logan. He was the kind of guy most girls were attracted to, she reasoned. And she had to admit to herself that having him focus attention on her when he was so sought after in the highest of social circles did wonders for her ego.

But – like Logan had inferred so accurately – there was Tristan.

Sighing, Rory shrugged out of her coat, hung it near the door and walked into the tiny kitchenette for a glass of water. Filling a glass for herself, she leaned back against the fridge and took a long sip, thoughts blurring in her head.

A big part of her attraction to Logan was that he was baggage-free. They didn't have a history, their conversations weren't fraught with unspoken words and the time they spent together always made Rory feel relaxed.

Rory frowned and shook her head as if to clear it from thought; she shouldn't be thinking about Logan _at all_. Nothing could come out of their relationship – she'd looked into the future with him and knew that once the lust that stemmed from initial attraction was fulfilled, they wouldn't work on any other level.

_Couldn't work, maybe_ _is more accurate_, a voice chided her softly. Not as long as Tristan resided in her heart.

She stared at the tiny table squeezed between the fridge and wall of the kitchen and remembered the conversation that had taken place in her kitchen in Boston, almost six months ago.

_"So London, huh?" Tristan said with a mirthless smile as he sat across from her at the table. After she had told him about her job offer and where it was, he had announced that he needed coffee. They had made their way into the kitchen and made breakfast, without speaking until he sat down in front of her and pushed her favorite mug of coffee across the table. "Seems like a whole lot of ocean to put between us, Ror."_

_She shook her head. "That's not what I'm doing, Tristan."_

_He nodded, pursed his lips together. "What do you want to do?" Fighting back tears, she shrugged helplessly, unable to say anything. "You should take it."_

_"Tristan, that's not what-"_

_"No, it is what you want," he replied vehemently. "I know you inside out, Rory. It's your dream come true to work for such a prestigious paper. With Mitchum Huntzberger, no less. You would regret every single day if you didn't take the job."_

_"I would miss you every single day if I did," she answered, for what seemed like the first time in ten years, as honestly as she could._

_His eyes darkened and he reached across the table to take her hand in his. "It'll kill me to know you're so far away. But it's not like we haven't been apart before. And I won't stand in the way of this. I've never done that."_

_Her lips twisted into a smile that was almost bitter. "No you've never asked me to stay."_

_"Rory."_

_She took her hand away from his, shoved away from the table. "Forget it, Tristan."_

_She stood up and turned around so he wouldn't see her cry. His chair scraped the floor and he came to stand behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder. When she didn't budge, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulled her against him.  
His lips grazed her ear as he said, "Rory, don't."_

_"I can't help it," she replied, sniffling. "It's the same thing over and over again. I don't know what to do, anymore."_

_"I know, baby," he said and tightened his grip on her. "But I'm just trying to give us some perspective. As much as I hate it, distance might be a good thing for us. And not just distance that we can easily cover and seek each other out, whenever we want to. If you're on another continent, I might be able to stay away."_

_A sob escaped her and she turned around, putting her hands on his chest. "We need this."_

_He nodded firmly. "We do. It's healthy. When you left my house that day, I was so mad I almost came after you, wanting to drag you back and keep you locked up and give you no other choice. I'm not exaggerating; I was already in the car."_

_She smiled, knowing exactly how angry he would have been. "But you didn't."_

_"No, because I need you to come to me on your own terms," he answered, brushing a strand of hair off her face. "I need to know that when we come to each other it's because it's meant and not because we're stuck in some sort of twisted cycle."_

_She ran the back of her hand under her nose, feeling disgusted. "That's what I want too. That's why I left that day. It's almost like we're addicted to the misery we seem to so easily inflict on each other."_

_His hands rubbed soothing circles on the small of her back and he kissed her forehead. "I've been addicted to you since I was sixteen. It's been a hard habit to break."_

_She laughed weakly, resting her head against his chest. "I don't know how I feel being compared to drugs."_

_He chuckled and then pulled away, bringing his hand under her chin. "Nothing would make me happier than to see you happy, Rory Gilmore."_

_A tear trailed down her cheek. Unable to find words, she lifted her face and kissed him, wrapping her arms around him, pouring all her love into that one kiss, hoping he knew what she was trying to say._

_He responded his lips hungrily devouring hers, before bending down and lifting her into his arms and carrying her into the bedroom._

They had made love on her bed as if it were the last time they were going to see each other. It was the first time in a long time since their lovemaking had been so tender, so intimate. She rose above him on the bed; fingers linked together, eyes locked as they rode out the first peak together.

He had stayed with her until she was asleep and when she woke up later that afternoon, he was gone.

She had been surprised when he had called the night she was leaving, asking her if she needed a ride to the airport. She hadn't been able to say yes, knowing it would make it harder for her to leave with him standing there at the gate. She thanked him for the offer and told him she'd see him at Christmas.

He didn't tell her loved her.

_Do the things that you always wanted to  
Without me there to hold you back, don't think, just do_

_More than anything I want to see you, girl  
Take a glorious bite out of the whole world_

In her kitchen in London, Rory wiped away an unbidden tear and turned to put her empty glass in the sink.

She'd see Tristan at Christmas. And maybe finally, they'd find some peace.

_To Be Continued…_

_**PS – Download the song if you haven't already. It's wonderful. Lyrics for your reading pleasure.**_

_You could be happy and I won't know  
But you weren't happy the day I watched you go_

_And all the things that I wished I had not said  
Are played in loops 'till it's madness in my head_

_Is it too late to remind you how we were  
But not our last days of silence, screaming, blur_

_Most of what I remember makes me sure  
I should have stopped you from walking out the door_

_You could be happy, I hope you are  
You made me happier than I'd been by far_

_Somehow everything I own smells of you  
And for the tiniest moment it's all not true_

_Do the things that you always wanted to  
Without me there to hold you back, don't think, just do_

_More than anything I want to see you, girl  
Take a glorious bite out of the whole world_


End file.
